Ahh, what the heck....

If you feel so inclined, Mojo is not violently opposed to you throwing coins at her like she was some sort of performing chimp. And, unlike many performing primates, you need not worry that she will swallow the coins and get sick. She hasn't done that in weeks.

Liars, Part 2

AKA "The Independently Wealthy Former Long Distance Runner Who Teaches Software Classes Just For Fun When He Is Not Making Millions on Patented Inventions Designed to Help His Marine Biologist Girlfriend" Story

Liars, Part 1

My husband and I had a great discussion this past weekend on liars we've encountered in life. Not the usual "Gosh, this oatmeal is delicious; I simply MUST have the recipe" while they are privately gagging liars, but grand, epic liars that you stare at open-mouthed and you are too shocked to bother confronting. Giant freaky pathological liars. The sort you're just waiting to hear "Yeah, that's the ticket. With Morgan Fairchild."

It came up because an acquaintance of my husband claims to be Mister Great Outdoorsman, but if you question him about where he's gone and what he's seen he starts making stuff up. And you just can't make up stuff about the area where we live--we've hiked through it a gazillion times and we know most of the stuff there is to know, at least for the casual hiker, and a good deal the casual first time hiker might miss. And being the inquisitive problem-solving types that we are, if we hear innocent-sounding discrepancies we tend to ask for more information. This makes liars start to sweat and really pour it on.

Poor Rosie!

Our poor dawg met Mister Porcupine today for the first time. One of my complaints about Ratty cat is that he is WAY too forgiving with the dog. At times Rosie could really use a good swat on the nose with a couple of claws in the mix, but Ratty just doesn't have it in him. Not even with mice anymore; early on when he still thought he was a stray he was an excellent mouser, but now the ones he brings in the house may be psychologically traumatized, but there is rarely a scratch on them when he lets them go in our beds at two in the morning.

So we had to spend about an hour this morning acquainting Rosie with another new friend, who we call Mister Needle-nosed Pliers.


There was an item that made the national news about a particular soft contact lens cleaner that might be connected to a rare type of eye infection that can lead to blindness.

I arrived late in contact world, having only got them six or seven years ago, in my mid-thirties. Before then I wore glasses. Now I wear contacts nearly all the time, but it took some adjusting since I was real skeevy about sticking things in my eyes.

Recognizing a Stroke

My mom sent me one of those ubiquitous email thingies except this one seems to actually do some good. It's how the average schmoe (that would be you or me, dontcha know) can recognize a stroke in another person. There's no need to go into the pointless anecdote about someone having a stroke at a party 'cuz everyone's heard such stories. Here's the stuff you NEED to know:

S *Ask the individual to SMILE.

T *Ask the person to TALK, to SPEAK A SIMPLE SENTENCE. (Coherently) (i.e. . . It is sunny out today)

R *Ask him or her to RAISE BOTH ARMS.


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