The Crackhaid Dawg

Okay, so. Yesterday we were taking Miss A back to her Dad when we got one of the phone calls you hate to get but know is inevitable.

The groomer called to tell us that Bentley, Known to most of you as The Crackhaid Dawg, had crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

To say I was crushed would be an understatement.

This Dawg was pretty much my first pet. There were some dogs and cats in my childhood but they never stuck around for long so I wasn’t really attached. Bentley was mine. We had him from Puppyhood and he was so cute and so sweet.

He was who was there when my daughter attacked me. He sat in my lap and licked my tears.

He would curl up in the bend of my knee when I was sick or depressed and just STAY there for hours. Never demanding my attention. Just being there.

He provided endless hours of love, comfort, and entertainment. And now he is gone.

We brought him home last night. His little body wrapped in a towel in his kennel. TWH unwrapped him so I could stroke his little ears and say goodbye. Today we’ll take him to the vet to see if we can find some answers.

Then we move on, I guess. We move on as a family diminished, because he was one of us.

But I will miss him.


Bentley.  Making me work for a good picture of him.

Goodbye Sweet Boy.


Eff You, Facebook “Prove It” Status People

Okay, so. There I am innocently scrolling through my Facebook feed managing to ignore MOST of what’s thrown up there. The Political shit. The religious shit. Just most of the shit, when all of a sudden WHAM!! Perhaps one of the most offensive damn things I have ever encountered in the universe of the Faceyspace.

This. Shit. Right. Here.

What tha FUCK!?!!?

There is no way in HELL I think that my sharing or not sharing something says ANYDAMNTHING about who I am as a person and my belief system. However, I think it says a whole hell of a lot about the asshole who creates this shit and their personal mindset. “Leet’s see what kind of assoholic behavior I can exhibit today”. THAT”S what I think it says.

I realize I may be the LAST person who should chide anyone about what they choose to share due to the fact that I pretty much spew whatever stomps through my head all over this here blog and FB and Twitter but Dear Baby Jeebus!! Hows about a little motherfucking Common Sense!?!? Hows about before you hit the “Share” button, you ask yourself “Is this gonna make me look like an asshole or a complete Douchecanoe??” If the answer is “Douchecanoe” then DON’T!!! Asshole, you can live with. Douchecanoe?? Not so much.


I by the way, did NOT share the picture.  The PICTURE is adorable.  Those cheeks alone could keep me smiling for days. I mean, LOOK at ’em!!  The hateful words below it make me wanna puke.


Thus ends my rant.

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An Attitude of Gratitude

Okay, so. I’ve been doing the whole “30 Days of Thankful” thing on FB. Today, Day 12, I said I’m thankful for my two previous marriages.

Yes, I said TWO. Moving on…

I am Thankful for my two previous marriages because they showed me what I DIDN’T want in a marriage. What I wasn’t willing to compromise. The pieces of myself I wasn’t willing to give away in the name of domestic bliss.

I walked away from these marriages because I wasn’t happy. I KNEW there was better. Marriage shouldn’t have been so much WORK. Shouldn’t have made me feel like I was suffocating every minute of every day.

Marriage shouldn’t have made me miserable. So I left. The decision to leave wasn’t easy. Okay, well, the decision to leave my SECOND marriage wasn’t easy. Leaving husband #1 was a joy. Leaving #2 was a different story. There were kids, hurt feelings, and tears.

I left anyway. I left because staying felt like it would have been the end of me.

So I am thankful. I am thankful that those relationships taught me something about myself. I’m thankful that they taught me something about the Wife I wanted to be and the Husband I wanted to have.

I think I’ve managed nicely.


A Day at Ye Olde Faire

Okay, so. Today after I got off work TWH, TB & I piled into the car and headed for the Renaissance Festival. We haven’t been in a couple of years so we thought it’d make for a nice afternoon.

We got there just in time for TB & I to follow TWH as he power-walked us to the Jousting Field. Normally, TWH kinda strolls but put him in a situation where there’s lots of people and something that starts at a certain time and he morphs into a power-walking champion.

Anyway, we get to the lists and find seats in the bleachers. We’re watching the jousting and yelling like fools when we notice two young ladies dressed in outlandish attire (even for Ren Fest) with cloth signs covering their rear-ends reading “Wench Show” and listing times. Turns out, the last show of the day was immediately after the jousting. We were discussing going to see it when the teenage boy in front of us turns around and says “Their show is WAY funnier than THIS”. Now, considering the serious Cheese factor of the Jousting, saying the Wench Show was funnier was making one helluva claim.

He wasn’t wrong.

After the Jousting, we made our way over to the Wench show, took a seat, and got ready. These girls didn’t disappoint. They started by picking out TWH as the “Laundry Inspector” due to the fact that he is NOT a small man and he was wearing a bright green t-shirt. They tossed TWH a pair of pants to “inspect” and when he deemed them less than immaculate, these girls kicked in the theatrics big time. The lead girl took the pants, slammed them into a pool that served as their wash water until pretty much everyone on the first 3 or so rows was soaked. She then came stalking toward TWH with her sopping wet bundle while I frantically poked TB while yelling “Move down son!! MOVE DOWN!!” While I thoroughly enjoyed TWH being involved in the show, I REALLY didn’t want to get some of whatever he was about to get. Which appeared to be mostly wet. He proclaimed the now sopping wet pants to be the cleanest he’d ever seen and spared us all the Wench retribution.

The show continued and a good time was had by all.

On the way home, TWH (sarcastically) thanked me for abandoning him after he’d incurred the Wenches wrath. I told him I wasn’t so much abandoning him as protecting our son like any good mother would.

My 5’9″ 150lb son. He needed his Mommy.


And I will NEVER say different.

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