Snoop Malloy

 Growing up in State Center, Iowa our family had a little white rat terrier named, Snoop.  Not Snoopie...just Snoop.  Snoop was the type of dog that "got around."  In the days of "tie up the dog", Snoop was a Houdini.  He ran sideways behind our bikes and visited the grocery stores. Occasionally he would walk into church or school when the doors were open to get a breeze in there before the days of air conditioning.  He loved my dad and my dad loved Snoop.  

I started thinking about him because I put on a pair of black jeans this morning and I didn't have to worry about Snoop hair.  Snoop shed little white hairs about 1/2-3/4 inch long....on everything.  I don't have Snoop hairs to worry about.  Many years for Christmas my mom would give me a lint roller as a gift...lint?  No "Snoop hair" roller.  

I bet if I went back to the our house in State Center, I could find still Snoop hair.  Snoop has been dead 50 years.  His legacy continues through my memories. 

I'm of an age when going to the doctor seems to be a social event.....

I laugh whenever I hear the side effects mentioned for some drugs.  No, it is not appropriate nor is it politically correct.  I hate telling on myself but I’m thinking the rest of you are shaking your heads behind closed doors.  I bet you’re laughing, too!

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So, there’s a medicine you can take for reflux but you might get explosive diarrhea.  This takes me back to an Economics class that I took at Iowa State in 1970.  Diminishing returns....so, which do you hate more.....reflux or explosive diarrhea?  Personally,  I would have to weigh those facts carefully before selecting the lesser of two evils.  I pick reflux.

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"If you have an erection lasting more than four hours, call your doctor."   The television pitchman tells all who are watching the evening news this fact almost every night.  I overheard some men talking about this while drinking their morning coffee at a local restaurant. “I don’t know about you, but I’d call the newspaper,” said one of the guys.  The rest of his group giggled.  I quickly stepped away and laughed my head off.

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"This drug could cause death."  Ick!  Think carefully about this one.  But, at least you know that it could be a side effect.

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I don’t want to take medicine.  I want to be a machine of health.  Last night, I was watching the news.  Every commercial was for a different drug focused on the geriatric crowd--ME!  I sat there laughing at what could happen if I decided to take different medicines.  Yes, I know that most of the times the side effects don’t happen....but what if they do?

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I am allergic to demerol.  I KNOW I saw those mice dancing at the end of my bed and I don’t ever want to see them again.  My entire body felt like a big, old hive.  However, I am quick to tell any and everybody that demerol was effective for pain....and for hallucinations.  It made a believer out of me.  I never want to see or hear that drug mentioned again.  One person’s trash is another person’s treasure....but the demerol worked for pain control.  I am glad it’s no longer being used to control pain.

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So, that being said, I am working on my health.  You know, eating to live instead of living to eat.  I wish I could say that the pounds come off magically and that I never back slide.  Ha!  It has taken two months to lose four pounds.  Just think, maybe by 2025......I’ll have the weight off!  Pass the fruits and vegetables.

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So why am I concerned about my "pandemic poundage?"  To quote my physical therapist "for each pound I take off, I take 4 pounds of pressure off my knees".  25 pounds lost = 100 pounds of pressure off my knees.  AND my right knee hasn't been the same since I ran from the snake....(in my defense, it was the biggest snake I had ever seen outside of a zoo....in my lower back yard.....I was weed eating....I disturbed him....instead of stop, drop, and roll.....I jumped, turned and ran.) AND for those of you that love me, you know I don't run.  Ever.  I barely fast walk.  

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I have never stuck with an exercise program like I am sticking with my assigned regime from OrthoGeorgia.  I have completed my exercise routine everyday since Monday, May 2.  Now, for my buff relatives, I know this ain't nothing to brag about.  I have a sheet of exercises that I am to complete daily and I am doing this.  I can feel a difference.  I go to Physical Therapy each week.  I am not cutting class.  

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I don't want praise or condemnation.  It's a fact.  It's my responsibility.  "Make it a great day or not, the choice is mine."

Everyone Has Time to be a Mule

 I was driving up Highway 42 when I saw two big old mules hanging out with their cows.  They aren't new mules.  They are there to protect "their" cows.  I see them on a regular basis, but the sun was hitting their coats just right and it looked like they were glowing that afternoon. The mules had an aura.  You might say those mules are the guardian angels of their herd.  

Coyotes don't care for mules and mules don't care for coyotes.  It is a mutual dislike and the mules are used as big "watch dogs" for their herds.  Those mules look mean.  I don't want to cast generalizations towards mules....but those two radiate a "don't screw with me vibe." Those cows look like they don't have a care in the world.  

My point in this blog is simple.  We all need to help others at times.  Be a friend.  Be some goodness in this world.  Sometimes, we are the cow.  But, sometimes, we must be the mule.  

Matthew 25:40

New King James Version

40 And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’

This, That, and the Other

Why do people speed in parking lots?  They are far more trusting than I am.  Are they planning to get to a parking space quicker than anyone else?  I don't mean go a little fast...I saw someone going through the Walmart parking lot like she was on the hunt for a Cabbage Patch Doll in 1983.  SMH

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I do like social media....it's an efficient way to 1.  find out what's happening 2.  eavesdrop on mankind. 3.  share too much. 4.  laugh at the crazy memes people post.  I read Facebook, I look at Instagram and I just plain wonder about Twitter.  However, each time I open my phone, I am so thankful that I am not a principal-- all I can think about is how much havoc could be created by one awful post.  Reading the posts of others can be like looking through someone else's underwear drawer.  You don't know what you might find.  But, people keep looking.  

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Hugh Daniel Malloy

Fall of 1930 

16 years old

It's my Dad's 108 birthday today.  Hugh Daniel Malloy, the 14th child of Jim and Jane Malloy, was born in State Center, Iowa February 27, 1914.  He lived through the Spanish Flu, WWI, WWII (he left State Center in 1941 and returned in 1946), the Korean War, the Cold War, and part of the Viet Nam War leaving this earth on November 9, 1970.  Happy Heavenly Birthday, Dad!  For dessert tonight, I am serving apple pie with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese in his honor.  I remember the day he got me to try that combination....."E, try it.  You won't believe how the flavors go together."  I did and I still love it.   Dad would probably like it better if I served tall-necked Budweisers with cheese and crackers.  

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The daffodils and crocus are really looking terrific this spring.  My camellias are gorgeous.  The buds are on the trees.  The forsythia bushes are ready to pop.  Spring is in the air....but spring can be very fickle in the south.  (I know of what I speak-- Iowa is the birthplace of fickle weather.  When I was student teaching in the fall of 1972, I went to work in a short sleeved dress.  There was a snowstorm that afternoon, there was 8 inches of snow before dismissal and the school secretary took me to her house because I couldn't drive the 15 miles back to Mom's).   I remember sitting on the bleachers watching Little League games wrapped up in a blanket.  

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Sometimes I live my life according to those "Success" posters.  You know-- "There's no I in team."  "Your gratitude affects your attitude." "Roll up your sleeves and get to work.  You won't have time to wring your hands." 

"Beauty is only skin deep.  But ugliness can go clear to the bone." 

I have collected thousands of posters. memes, sayings, truths, lies, and other visuals.  I just love the humor of the Internet.  Lordy, I can sit and read that craziness and laugh and laugh.

Now, I am not high brow....I have told you that my funny bone is about as mature as a fourteen year old boy.  I like the quips, the one-liners, the silly, the double entendres....

My laugh for the day:

DOING CRUNCHES TWICE A DAY NOW,

CAPTAIN IN THE MORNING

NESTLE IN THE AFTERNOON.

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As Dr. Dennard Scoggins said every time he was on  CHS-TV, "Make it a great day or not.  The choice is yours."

Fit Bit? Nah, Bit Fat.

I love seeing people wearing their Fit Bits. However, I am a fit bit drop out.  I couldn't get my syncing right.  I screwed up my charging....I killed one of those cute little bracelets.  I lost my charging cord. 

I do like the idea of Big Brother watching my every step though.   I'm a sitter.  He'd get bored.  Haha!  Someone needs be the bottom of the pack.  I'll volunteer.  

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I have two athletic brothers.  I have an immediate family of "Let's hike the mountain." "Let's work up a sweat."  "Let's challenge ourselves!"  "I can climb a wall."  "I can roller blade."  "I do cross-fit." "Let's run the rim of the Grand Canyon." "Let's play golf."  "Shall we ride our bikes across Iowa?"  

Me? "Hey, y'all.  You wanna try these new cookies I baked?"  

The sloth might be my mascot on a good day.  

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My family has embraced their Apple watches.  They talk to each other.  They read e-mails and texts.  They are reminded to move by the watch.  

Frankly, my eyes can't read agate type without a magnifying glass.  I guess I could carry one in my back pocket, but I'd have to stop everything I was doing to see what is happening.  

I am a hold-out for paper and pencils.  One time in graduate school a statistician asked me what stat program I used.  I held up a piece of paper and a pencil.  (Nah, I really could use the Stat program....I was just playing with her.) She looked at me funny and said, "Really?"  I looked back and said, "Really."  (This was a moment like in a Texas Hold'em Tournament  when I knew I shouldn't break eye contact and keep on bluffing.....she nodded and kept working.)

I like technology.  I like writing letters.  I like balance.  A good postage stamp is terrific.   Podcasts are amazing.  Sometimes, I feel like the world of technology is taking over.  Is this bad?  Is it good?  Is it progress?  

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We all have strengths and weaknesses.  My strengths are a sassy sense of humor and a bizarre case of the X-ray vision in seeing the irony in everyday life.  My weaknesses are my love of Kerrygold butter and worrying about humankind.  

BUT

Maybe my weaknesses are my sassy sense of humor and bizarre case of seeing the irony in everyday life and my strengths are my love of Kerrygold Butter and worrying about humankind.  

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I have a secret.  Not only do I do five crosswords per day (NO, they aren't the ones in the New York Times) I have done some form of exercise everyday of 2022.  For example, I have walked, rode a stationary bicycle, done yoga, completed an exercise lesson, and generally moved my sedentary body.  I am trying to improve my health.  

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Balance, people.  Life is about balance.  

Pass the Kerrygold, please.  

Thanks for the Memories, Mr. Dunn

I lost one of my oldest and dearest friends to a variety of ailments on Saturday morning, February 6, 2021.  We had said our good-byes, laughed, cried, and laughed some more.   It was time for him to leave....I just wasn't ready to see him go.  

Friday afternoon, February 5, I had received a cryptic text from one of the inner circle stating that Dale Dunn was at the depot and waiting for the train.  The short, sweet text that came Saturday said, "Dale caught the express train this morning. He's on his way to see his Mom and Dad."

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My mom and Dale's folks knew each other growing up.  The Dunns had always been part of our lives.  BUT, I really didn't get to know Dale well until we had study library in high school.  I was a sophomore and Dale was a senior.  We had assigned seats and Dale sat directly across from me.  Study library was supposedly a time to catch up on our work, check out books and magazines to increase our knowledge of the world but, frankly, it was a time for me to visit with Dale and catch up on the news of West Marshall High School.  I never used study library for studying....I used it for silent laughter that hurts from holding it inside.  I used it for finding out the latest information-- Dale was the Internet before the Internet was the Internet.  He was a holding tank for all news.

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Fast forward through college and my first teaching job was Milford Elementary, Nevada Iowa Community Schools-- a converted township school that housed all the 5th and 6th graders in the district.  We were about seven miles out of town....cornfields every direction that we looked.  (Yes, there is a Nevada, Iowa.). AND Shazam, we were together again.  Dale was a 5th grade teacher and I taught 6th....and the visiting began.  Oh, he was great with his students....Dale was one of the best teachers of reading I've ever known.  

That knowledge of reading took him to his next career after 25+ years in the classroom....he became a consultant for Houghton-Mifflin-- yep, he was teaching teachers how to become better teachers.  Dale loved his traveling all over the state of Iowa, then he loved traveling all over the midwest,  and then all he was flying all over the nation teaching teachers how to teach reading.  He loved teaching teachers as much as he loved teaching students.  The traveling was intense but I never heard him complain.  He liked the other consultants and his mentors.  He said he was always learning new things... and he usually passed those tidbits of information on to me.  AND I promise he was always laughing and making others laugh.  AND at the heart of every lesson was the tenet, "How does this really help children be successful in life?"  

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But, the joy that comes with a friendship that old creates a deep pit when one member of the pair leaves this earth.  Dale ALWAYS called me on my birthday.  AND I always called him on his birthday.  Dale and I went out to eat whenever I went back to Iowa.  He called me "Little Erin."  Not with malice, just a fondness between friends that accepted each other for who we were.  We had a history of homegrown hilarity and humility.  

When Mike died, my mom couldn't come to the funeral because an infection in her leg grounded her-- no flying to Georgia for her.  Both of my brothers flew to Georgia immediately to be my family.    Dale offered to go and sit with Mom during the funeral so she wouldn't be alone.  That's the kind of friend he was.  He knew what would comfort mom would comfort me.  

So, yesterday was Dale's 73 birthday....and this one he celebrated in heaven.  It was the first time since 1973 that we didn't talk far too long on the phone and laugh over our families, our friends, our health, society in general....and I know we would have been talking about Betty White and Georgia football.  We would have talked until the all the nieces and nephews had been discussed, the kids, the farm, crops, weather,  football, basketball, the Pantone color of the year, and which flowers we were going to plant in the spring.  

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The thing I miss about Dale, and I miss it on a regular basis, was his unending optimism.  Life was bad....but he always said it could be worse.  Even when he was so sick, Dale was giving me advice and ideas on strengthening my reading instruction.  He would rephrase my questions and make me come up with answers on my own.  He was teaching me how to teach until the last week of his life.  He was also forcing me to face the fact that his cancer was very severe and that his days on earth were numbered.  He told me how nice the Hospice people were.  He told me not to worry.  He told me to use Sweet Potato vines in my flower boxes.  He told me that deep red geraniums were a flower made to go with the American Flag on the 4th of July.  

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Dale and I had plenty of real time adventures....like riding in a car when our friend caught her husband with a hussy.....we thought we might die that day.  Or when we were hunting a friend's front tooth crown in a tomato patch at midnight and laughing so hard that we thought we would wake up the neighbors.....or going out to eat and laughing more than eating...there were no topics that were off limits.... no feelings that couldn't be discussed....no pretenses....no lies....no worries.  

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So take that phone of yours and call a friend today for no reason.  Laugh.  Laugh.  Laugh.  Be supportive.  Be kind.  Be yourself.  AND laugh.  

Happy Birthday, Dale!

                                                            Eating and laughing since 1966!  

I Wanna Be Rip

Yellowstone is like the advent of the pet rock.  Those that get it....get it.  It's okay if you don't get it cause I have NO idea why I have enjoyed this show so much.  

This is a story of a modern day rancher, his family and their land.....yep, these factors are the cornerstone of each episode...the Duttons have a cook, lots of trucks, horses, cows (note-- refer to them as cattle), a helicopter and a a beautiful log cabin situated on the fictional Yellowstone Ranch in Montana....there's a bunk house full of rowdy ranch hands, loyalty,  and a love of the land that is noble.  They also brand (yes, you heard me right--BRAND) those ranch hand "family members" who aren't blood related.  Those family members are related by experience...if you are "Yellowstone"....you are Yellowstone for life.    It's a shoot 'em up, ride hard, put away wet, blow up your neighborhood type of tv series on Paramount.  There are Native Americans, one-liners, cowboys, scenery and one hell of a storyline each week.  The F word is bantied about as casual as the word....the. 

It is crude, rude, and lewd. 

But, I digress.  This tv show has sucked me into its vortex like few others on tv.  Oh, I'm an advocate for old school "Hill Street Blues",  "St. Elsewhere", Stephen Boscow, Aaron Sorkin tv.....but a modern day Western?  This isn't my normal fare.  AND I look forward to Sunday nights to see what might happen next.   

I am trying to analyze why I like it.  It is believable but unbelievable.  Violent.  The f-word is used by everyone involved.  I mean the f-bomb isn't a bomb....it's more like a word that can be used every part of speech.  It's not Longmire for sure.  You commit a sin against the "family"-- you'll be taking a ride to the train station....and this train is that long, dark train to meet your maker.  I kind of like this eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth mentality.  But, I digress.  

My favorite character is Rip.  

Rip listens far more than he talks.  He's an enigma....a tall, dark, sunglass wearing cowboy-- a Shaman who proclaims that he lives to take care of the family.  He is like a wild animal-- he watches everything and is continually on guard.  He reminds me of a wolf, a loner....Rip is always on the periphery....even though he loves the Dutton daughter, Beth, and they are soon to be married.  He might be considered feral.  

NOTE:  Beth and Rip got married in the final episode of Season 4 after she kidnapped a priest....and as John Dutton whispered, "BUT, we aren't Catholic."  She just used a little gun....the priest isn't going to press charges....

Since the onset of the Covid experience, many of us have become a little more like Rip than we care to admit.  We watch where we are, we watch who we associate with, we are careful, cautious and continually on guard.  We protect our families by sanitizing our hands or staying away from dense numbers of people congregated together.  

I've lost too many people who I respect and care about due to illness during 2019-2021 span.  I am cautious.  I will continue to be cautious.  I'm not scared.  I am listening to doctors that I know and trust.  

For those of you that want to chide me about this.  Turn the channel.