Honk Honk

I was in a meeting the other day when a man came scooting in, literally. His leg was in one of those black boot-cast things and he had essentially a scooter with a mini bench thing for his leg. Although his scooter was all black he had on it a pink, purple and green basket on the handlebars along with a pink and purple horn and a pink reflector. Naturally I found the whole scene mildly amusing.

His production getting situated caused some snickers. Of course he choose a seat on an aisle to provide room to prop his injured leg on the scooter. Which then in turn blocked the aisle so he had to keep swinging it around to let people by. I came to find the snickers were because he had been using this scooter for a while. My thought was, if you are zipping around so fast that you require a horn, do you even need the scooter? Aside from the fact that his handlebars were decorated like a little girls tricycle, wouldn’t most men prefer crutches anyways?

The whole production-ness of it affirmed he liked the attention. He kept taking things in and out of his basket; glasses out to read and then back in. Next water bottle; out to drink and back in. I heard he had a crazy girlfriend so I found my mind wandering to wonder is she had made the basket or perhaps provided the purple and pink horn. Then I wondered if he honked at her.

HONK, bring me a water!

HONK, where are my glasses?!

There in your basket, she would yell back!

Then, HONK, thanks babe!

I bet she was sorry she ever gave it to him. So is probably the rest of society.

Then I started to think if it was a bigger basket I could put Murry in it and tote him around with me. My toe is still broke so I had a quasi-legit reason for one. Obviously I’d switch it up and get a cooler horn, maybe silver. Maybe one of those bullhorn things too in case crowds really got out of control. I could stand and let Lolly sit on the back. Probably have to strap her in though and definitely give her one of those half-helmet things. Then I imagined coming face to face with this guy on his scooter and circling around, giving each other the evil eye. We’d go faster and faster and soon the dogs would be barking and we’d be hollering obscenities at each other. Our circles would go faster and faster until he fell off, his bum leg and all. I’d honk my silver horn triumphantly and laugh loudly into the bullhorn while he sat on the floor. (What? It’s my imagination; like I’m going to be the one to fall) I’d do a victory lap with my dogs and splashing water from His water bottle on the crowd before zipping off into the sunset.

Honestly, I was so distracted I couldn’t even tell you what the meeting was about because by the time I reached my victory lap it was over. I don’t even know this man and in my head I just kicked his ass in a scooter for no apparent reason. Well, he did have a pink and purple horn attached. Good enough for an ass kicking for me.

Be sure to like the buppies Facebook page, Back talking Buppies!

Kimmie is a graphic designer, full time dog-mom and aspiring aerialist. She is also a contributor to Twodaymag.com

Follow Kimmie on Twitter at @lifewithdoggies

Breaking Murry

I had the pleasure of visiting my family this past weekend for Pops 60^th birthday. He’s holding up well, no nursing home imminent or anything. My brother’s family came over and I had an excellent time with my two-year-old niece. Turns out we have a lot in common. We are basically on the same schedule of play, talk, exercise and rest. Not surprisingly we eat about the same foods too. J agreed to watch both dogs, which if you follow this blog you know was a huge relief. Well I thought it would be.

           

            Turns out, J is quite enjoying his bachelor lifestyle (that’s putting it nicely). His going out schedule is a bit more than I remember. We remain good friends but I have no desire or need to keep up with him on a daily or even weekly basis. In fact I am quite content not knowing what he’s up to; except when he’s watching my babies.

           

            I could tell my calls checking to ensure they were fed and let out annoyed him. A bit cramping to any partier’s lifestyle.  The relief I felt knowing they were with him quickly turned to a huge amount stress I really could have done without. That, coupled with the fact that he broke my dog, made it clear I need to get working on plan B for my future travels.

            Back to J breaking Murry. Murry came home with a pitiful limp and he was completely mellow. Seeing as how Mellow Murry is by definition an oxymoron, it broke my heart. I don’t actually blame J. In fact, knowing Murry, it was probably self-induced but it was pitiful nonetheless.  So pitiful he barely squirmed while I examined him. He has a spot on his paw that probably has a cut but now has been licked raw. I actually kind of like him pitiful. He makes the cutest faces mainly because he’s not panting, barking, licking air or snarling constantly. Basically what a typical dog looks like. Plus he lets me hold him like a baby and barely squirms. Although it’s healing nicely and his limp is fading I have yet to tell J. Serves him right for making me worry.

For Pops next milestone birthday, I’ll just take Lolly and Murry with me. Hopefully by then he’ll be looney enough I can just tell him they are remote controlled stuffed animals and the one with the limp is his birthday present! (Batteries not included, no returns or exchanges, present is non transferable of course)

Be sure to like the buppies Facebook page, Back talking Buppies!

My gimpy baby

UPDATE: Murry' injury has been downgraded to an "around-the-house-limp". 
An evasive little injury that suddenly disappears at walk-time yet reappears 
once inside again. Hopefully someday science will be able to solve this mystery.
Until then, I will closely monitor the situation. 

Kimmie is a graphic designer, full time dog-mom and aspiring aerialist. She is also a contributor to Twodaymag.com

Follow Kimmie on Twitter at @lifewithdoggies

Back to School!

            School started this week and I’m excited to finally finish my last two classes, speech and statistics, for my Gen. Ed. AA! Most of the graphic design classes I took were specialized and didn’t transfer. I’m excited to get to the university to start work on my English degree next year.

            Having only those two classes somewhat limited my selection and based on ratemyprofessor.com remarks I am not excited about my speech teacher. However needing it on a certain campus on a certain night I just have to suck it up. I hit the gym on my way out but cut my work out short to ensure plenty of time for finding my new class and getting the required book.

            Thankfully there was no line at the bookstore. I was so early I even took my time perusing the notebooks and pens. I always do classic black but I decided to girl it up and got purple everything. I wandered over to the cafeteria to get coffee and to kill time but it was closed. I thought that was odd but figured this class must have be later than the design ones I took a few years ago.

           

Having ample time I drove down to 7-11 for my coffee/chocolate fix. That’s my new thing half coffee, half hot chocolate, all delicious! After chatting with every employee I headed back down the street to campus. My speech class was in a building new to me. It’s the furthest one out, on the opposite side as where my art classes had been. To my surprise there was tons of parking!  Quite the switch from what I remembered. I had often cut it close circling the other parking lot to find any space let alone anywhere near my class. So much parking that I stopped someone to ensure I wasn’t in faculty parking. He assured me I wasn’t and I set off to find room 120.

Parts of the building were dark but I figured there must be fewer classes because it was night. I wandered around for a while before seeking out help as I was down to ten minutes until class started. I saw janitor a mopping a hallway and approached him ignoring his warning to be careful. He asked who I was looking for as I whipped out my phone and read from my email my teachers’ name. He nodded his head yes, right place, and said, “Classes next week.” I looked down at my phone, now displaying my schedule and saw he was correct. I was not ten minutes early; I was a week early. Fantastic. At least now the parking made sense and I could probably get coffee on campus next week; once they were open for classes. I laughed, thanked him and listened to his own laughter as I wandered my way back to the still empty parking lot.

I called Ma on the way out who also found my faux pas quite humorous. She asked what I was going to do now that my night freed up and I said, “I guess hit the gym again. I thought I’d be here til ten and I just drank a LOT of coffee!”

“Oh Lord, Kimmie!” she replied and thanked me for the laugh.

I wasn’t exactly LOLing myself but it made me happy hearing everyone else. I’m still not sure how I completely mixed up the dates but was kind of glad nonetheless. I had been hoping for ‘syllabus night’ and that we’d leave early anyways, I just hadn’t been expecting this early. I headed back to the gym, smiling proudly to myself that this right-on-timer was actually the earliest bird for a change.

Editor’s note: I gave in and finally gave the buppies their own Facebook page, Back talking Buppies. They talk a lot and think they are so funny; they really needed an outlet. I set down some ground rules for them on proper posting and what is and is not acceptable. So far, aside from Buford’s foul mouth they seem to be abiding but I will continue to monitor them closely. 

Make them happy, "Like" their page.

Kimmie is a graphic designer, full time dog-mom and aspiring aerialist. She is also a contributor to Twodaymag.com

Follow Kimmie on Twitter at @lifewithdoggies

Wild Wildlife

I was in a meeting the other day when I excused myself to use the restroom. I diligently removed my cell from my back pocket as I have lost one too many phones to public toilets that way. Although silenced for the meeting I saw it light up when I pulled it out. Pops was calling. Figures.

I answered quietly, “Hello?”

“Kim? That you?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said a bit louder.

“Your Mother has gone crazy! She’s yelling at all the wildlife!” he exclaimed excitedly.

I bit back a laugh. My Ma had several birdfeeders in their backyard until one day her yard was overwhelmed with enough birds to fill an entire bird sanctuary. She cut back on the number of bird feeders but is forever battling an army squirrels.

“I’m actually in a meeting. I just stepped out to use the restroom. Can I call you after?” I asked.

He laughed and said, “Sure, YOU are the one who answered.”

What I said was I would call him after my meeting. What Pops heard was why don’t I text her funny limericks during her meeting. One was even on the experience we just had of me answering the phone in the loo. I suppose my payback was due. If I know Pops is in a church council meeting or serious finance meeting I will often try to text him LOL stuff.

When I finally talked to Pops AFTER my meeting he explained what a funny sight the ordeal was. Apparently the big birds were blocking the little birds, or the ones Ma thought should be getting food weren’t or they weren’t taking turns, I’m not quite sure really. The point is, the birds were not eating as Ma thought they should so she took to attempting to direct them by yelling and shooing them off.

We were both in stitches before he finished his story with Ma adding her indignant commentary in the background.

“Welp, that confirms it. I get the crazy from Ma!” I told Pops.

           

            He of course repeated to Ma, which was followed by more of her indignant protests and flimsy justifications. I may not go around screaming at wildlife but I have been known to yell at inanimate objects. Not to mention my daily commentary with my own wild life; the buppies.

            Lolly actually answers back in her own way. She has this deep, loud guttural growling she does and I pretend to interpret the sounds to respond accordingly. Murry only howls at feeding time but he does this huffing and puffing when he is displeased.

            In light of hearing about Ma’s silly antics with the birds, perhaps I should consider a roommate other than dogs. With that in my genes it can’t be long before I’m dressing the bups and throwing picnics for us, the birds, the squirrels, the ants and playing games of telephone and red rover with all the beasts.

Kimmie is a graphic designer, full time dog-mom and aspiring aerialist. She is also a contributor to Twodaymag.com

Follow Kimmie on Twitter at @lifewithdoggies

Eau de Reclaimed H20 Parfume

Apparently my HOA is on watering frenzy. The sprinklers go off around 6am, 8am noon and again around 7pm at night. I’m sure they are going off all hours of the night too but so far have declined to stand vigilance and see. Not to mention that around noon, a broken one out front shoots a phenomenal amount of water straight into the air. I see similar ones scattered throughout the neighborhood shooting water higher than six feet. It looks like one of those water parks you take kids to so they can run around, shriek and splash around. So if you and your kids are in the area…

I remember reading somewhere in the last email blast they had this new remote sprinkler system that enabled them to turn “zones” on and off remotely. Apparently my zone is broken. Or the person in charge is.

It’s Florida. It’s summer. It rains at some point every day just like it always has during summer. I guess this is one of the downsides of not having a day job. I’m around my house more and I can discover all these pesky things. I thought about keeping a log to note just how excessive the watering is. Including in the log would be the times they were on watering WHILE it’s raining- where’s your remote now? Then I planned, after I have the log as proof, firing off some emails to the board on their abusive watering and the broken sprinklers. I stopped short when I realized I was becoming of those people. One of those crotchy-old-busy-body-neighbors with nothing better to do except find things to complain about. Except I’m not old. And I really should have better things to do.

Before I come off all environmentalist or water conscience- like I should state it really only irritates because of how it personally affects me. My dogs don’t like to run through the sprinklers to potty. When the sprinklers are finished the grass is all wet and smelly from the reclaimed water and they don’t like that either. Lolly will go but Murry won’t potty on wet grass.  He’s too fat for nugget tossing and has taken to pissing on my porch again. My only consolation for that is that I know in an hour or two the sprinklers will be back on and rinse my porch off.

The whole experience is miserable for us all. Even to go out front we are dodging sprinklers ninja style just to go on a walk and we all get covered in the stinky mist. I tried varying potty times but between the sprinklers and rain I can’t seem to win. Potty pads are out of the questions as Lolly alone poos more than a line backer. That’s if she could get to it before Murry shredded the pads anyways.

I suppose for now we are stuck in our Eau de Reclaimed H20 Parfume. But that’s a standing off in anyone wants to join in running through six foot water shoots; I even have a kiddie pool we can fill up.

I know it looks bad but that driveway was starting to wilt.

Kimmie is a graphic designer, full time dog-mom and aspiring aerialist. She is also a contributor to Twodaymag.com

Follow Kimmie on Twitter at @lifewithdoggie

Good Morning

I tossed and turned a little bit just after 4am this morning before reaching for my water. Then I felt it. I quickly grabbed my phone for some light and saw the eyes. Eye level same as mine as I lay in bed, staring at me.

“Damn it Lolly, that’s fricking creepy!”

As my eyes adjusted I saw her sitting very pretty, big ears flopped, big eyes staring,  looking actually quite adorable.

“We went over this last night!” I told as reached over to scratch her ears. 

When I finished I rolled to put my back to her signaling we were done. Then I heard the thumping.

“Nooooo, it’s too early,” I cried out in my head.

I opened my eyes and there she was again now on the other side of my bed. Staring; body wiggling and tail thumping closet doors. I quickly barricaded myself in pillows so she couldn’t visibly see me. Then I felt two paws on the pillows and heard the air being licked at excessively.

“Nooooo,” I groaned to myself again.

Now her brother was up. I rolled back to the other side and made a higher barricade using my body pillow. And waited. Tail thumps and multi-pitch-good-morning yawns and there they were again. I peek out from under my body pillow and immediately get nosed on my forehead.

“Go. Lay. Down.” I command them. 

Sensing I mean business they obediently walk away. Clearly confused by the term ‘lay down’ they nosily begin playing with each other.

“That’s not a lay down!” I shout over there growls. 

Amidst a lot of dog sighing they finally stop. Lolly circles around before lying down and it’s finally quiet. For about thirty seconds. Then I hear the chewing. Loud, non-stop chewing; Murry on his Nylabone.

“Stop Murry. Enough!”

Once again he misinterprets and comes over to try and lick me but pillows already barricade me again. He eventually gives up and lies down. Peace. Quiet. Then snores. Murry snores so loud you can hear him through the ceiling down stairs and even when the TV is on low.

“Fine! I give up! Let’s go!”

I throw off my covers to the left as the rush up and quickly jump out of bed to the right. It’s my customary fake out. Not even 4:30 am.

This is our morning ritual, every morning, every day of the week. Normally it takes place closer to 6:30am. 6:30 I can handle; 4:30 does not make for a happy mom. They race downstairs and then back up to make sure I am really coming. Which I always am. Afterall, any creature that excited to start their day is either a dog or has to pee. In this case both.

Kimmie is a graphic designer, full time dog-mom and aspiring aerialist. She is also a contributor to Twodaymag.com

Follow Kimmie on Twitter at @lifewithdoggies

Aerial Instructor

I am SO excited to share that I now teach aerial classes at the school I train at! I have been teaching for a little while now and I love it! It’s funny that I was always so focused on my training I never thought about teaching. My joke is, “It’s better I train bodies than minds”. Too bad the buppies don’t listen as well as my students.

The first time someone referred to me as their trainer my heart leapt. I AM their trainer. During class another student called me coach and I thought, “I AM their coach!" It is extra exciting right now because our biannual showcase is this weekend. It’s so much fun helping students’ with their routines in addition to my own. It was decided 10 days before, including rehearsal and show date, I would perform on both lyra(hoop) and tissue(silk).

In hindsight, I should have kept myself in better condition. I had been focusing on lyra which takes less endurance when I should have been focusing on both. Lesson learned. Ten days is not a long time to whip myself back into shape. It was literally all I did. I trained very hard, forced two resting days which I used to prepare music and basically went from arm chair to bed and then I trained, trained, trained. I could put together a simpler routine of basic tricks and predictable transitions but so can a lot of people. That just not my style. Honestly, even on the day before, I thought about switching out a trick for something easier but that was the old me.

That was the old me. I had put silk on hiatus during and after the break up as I got everything readjusted so I definitely had my work cut out for me. Despite momentary lapses in confidence and as of yet having had a really great run through, I have never been more excited for a showcase. Despite having trained for the least amount of time, I feel the most prepared. This calmness I credit to having performed before.

For the calmness I am grateful. For the first time am looking forward, with joy and excitement, to our showcase. I have no doubt my routines will pull together and I can’t wait to see all the students perform. Who knows, maybe after showcase is over, I’ll finally get serious about training. Dog training, that is. They’ve had a lot of leeway with me gone every night and a battle is raging over my arm chair.

Kimmie is a graphic designer, full time dog-mom and aspiring aerialist. She is also a contributor to Twodaymag.com

Follow Kimmie on Twitter at @lifewithdoggies