The Mountain is so lonely...

Let me just say this right now- at the end of this story, he said to me: "There you go, using that common sense again."

Our eldest daughter, Kat, went to Phoenix with her boyfriend last week. She had fun, of course, and took lots of photos. I was showing DG the photos Kat took on her trip from her Facebook. I pointed to a photo of a mountain she took from the plane and said, "Doesn't that look like a volcano?"

Here's the photo-



DG agreed it looked like a volcano. Then he said, "Oh, he's lonely. Lookit that little lonely mountain all by hisself. Nobody loves him."

I pointed to the mountains nearby and said, "There's other mountains. He's got plenty of friends."

DG: "No. He's all alone. Look at him. He's all by himself. He ain't got nobody!" Then he sang, "He ain't got no... body!"

This went on for a few more minutes. "Go to that picture. See, those mountains are all hanging out, they're probably talking about that lonely mountain. He's all by himself. Nobody loves him and he's lonely. He's so lonesome he can cry!"

Me: "Is that what an avalanche is? The mountain crying?"

DG: "I don't know, but he's sad."

Me: "It looks like there's a farm right there. He's got a farm for a neighbor. He's not lonely."

DG: "That bastard! He flattened the friend. He ain't got no friend no more."

Me: "Farms don't flatten mountains."

DG: "They could."

Me: "With what? A bulldozer?"

DG: "Yeah."

Me: "Bulldozers don't flatten entire mountains."

DG: "He needs a boulder. If he had a boulder or two, he'd have friends."

Me: "I would think that a boulder to a mountain would be like a pebble to us."

DG: "No, that's how mountain gets started. A boulder here, a boulder there, and then you have a mountain."

Me: "That's not how mountains are made. They're made by earthquakes, Earth's plates shifting..." and I demonstrated with my hands how two plates on the earth shift and crunch up (my fingers).

DG: "There you go, using that common sense again."

Then we had a long discussion about two songs: "I'm so Lonesome I Could Cry" by Hank Williams and "Mr. Lonely" by Bobby Vinton. And according to the Disabled Guy, the mountain in that photo is "Mr. Lonely".

**Edited to add**

DG just asked Kat: "What do you think? You think that mountain's all by himself?"

Kat laughed but didn't answer (she's eating and I taught her well, not to talk with her mouth full).

DG said: "Did you see the picture? Did you? *pause* Oh, well of course you've seen the damn picture. You took the picture." *pause again* "Didja get the mountains to smile?"

A sampling, a potpurri if you will...

The following are just random snippets of things he says that are ALMOST right. Almost. Not quite, but you can tell what he meant. He usually laughs at himself or says in a fake sob: "DON'T MAKE FUN OF ME!" and another favorite fake-sob response: "DON'T TALK ABOUT ME LIKE I'M NOT HERE!" (that's from Julia Roberts in Steel Magnolias). Then there's the ever-sudden realization of: "Who talks like this?" *you do*

"I think, therefore I know things..."

"I beg to be differ..."

"Push the light on..."

"Get on the coffee table! GET ON THE COFFEE TABLE!" (this one was actually him trying to tell three rambunctious children to settle down)

"I'm gonna go upstairs and... do the- uh... that thing with, you know, the water."

"Dear, tell him about that thing." *What thing?* "You know, the thing that you know about that I can't remember."

"I broke my coffee... with the water..." *the carafe for his coffee maker cracked the other day*

"You're just doing this to shut the headache up..."

"It ain't that hard- soft- hard? Make up your choice..."

"You know, the chu- chuh- chee- you know, JASPER!"

Speaking of Jasper (our teacup Chihuahua), he calls the dogs by varying names.

Gypsy- Gyppy, Gippee, Mipsy, and any variation of Jasper's name. (Jasper is a male teacup Chihuahua, Gypsy is a female German Shepherd)
Luna- Looma, Loony.
Jasper- Japper, Japs-er, Jackster, Jass-ter, Bast-er, Bastard (yeah, he called him that).
Bruno- Broona, Broomo, Bruh-mo.

If he can't get their name after the first couple of tries, he blurts out: "You know which one you are!"

Just before he went upstairs to do that thing with the water (that is, to shower), he stopped to discuss something with the dogs.

"You guys need to pick up your damn toys." *much tail wagging* "Don't wag your tail at me, clean up this mess." *tail wagging, slight prance* "Pick up your toys!" *he gestures around at the toys which causes Gypsy to get excited and pick up a toy and try to get DG to play* "No, I don't want to play with your toys! Put your toys away!"

And here, is what the dogs heard: TOYS! TOYS! PLAY! TOYS!

And here's a photo of Gypsy and Jasper. I can see how you'd get them confused.



And I'm including this photo just because I think its cute.

Classical Music, Furry and Naked Bees, Godzilla, King Kong, and new tires

I needed new tires for the front of my truck. Why just the front? Because I got new tires about two years ago (maybe less, its really hard to say because this past year has been a long one). I do know that I was still walking with a cane and that it was still wintertime. I had to go all the way to Madison (about 60 miles away) because we had to use the Goodyear credit card. That time, we had everything pre-approved and I didn't need DG to go with me (his name is the only one on the card).

Well, March 2009, I was in the hospital for two weeks having a total knee replacement surgery. I heard countless times how much DG hated driving my truck. He has a full-size, two-door Chevy Silverado. I have a mid-size, four-door Chevy Colorado. Because mine is four-door, he had to drive mine to drive the kids anywhere. But I digress...

DG was driving my truck and somehow got a screw in the tire. No problem. He removed the screw and patched the tire. He's done it many times before. Except that now the tire has a slow leak. Every couple weeks (more in the cold weather), I would have to fill it with air.

A couple weeks ago, our son, Jase, was driving home after taking his girlfriend home. Up the street from our house, he slid on the slick road, ran a little into the freshly plowed-up snow on the side. No big deal... it happens. He came home and that was that... till the next morning when I discovered a completely flat tire. After the spare had been put on, DG examined the tire. There was a chunk of glass about the size of an index-finger fingernail. Not big, but it was a slice, not a small hole, and it couldn't be patched.

Well, that did it. I needed a new tire. Since we were going to have to get a new tire for that, we might as well get the new tire for the leaky side as well.

Here we are, in small-town Wisconsin with a Wal-Mart and no mall. There are a few small, independent tire stores, but not a single Goodyear shop. Long story short, we ended up going back to Madison. I had to order the tires because my Colorado doesn't have standard tires on it. Not my fault... we bought it used.

Here's a little nitpick, then on to the story involved in the title.

Both times my tires were damaged, I wasn't driving my truck. In fact, I was IN the hospital for the first one and sleeping at home for the other. And when the Goodyear guy asked if we wanted the "tire protection package", DG said, "Yeah, we better get that... you destroy your tires."

Hardly! I just wanted it out there that no- I did NOT destroy my tires. And yes, we got the tire protection package.

Onto the story...

My truck, my music. On the way up to Madison, we listened to the band Say Anything. Incidentally, their new album is also called "Say Anything". On the way back, I put in a CD called "Classical Thunder". I get these CDs every few weeks in the mail- with a "genuine leather-bound" book that details the music on the two-disc set. On this particular CD, when it reached track three... that's when the fun started.

Bach's "Toccota and Fugue in D-Minor" came on. You all know it. You probably have the opening notes as a ring tone on your phone. Its heavy with organ music and the fodder of the old-time silent horror films.

DG said, "This reminds me of Dracula."

Me: "That's because it was probably in one of those old black and white movies."

DG: "Yeah, like a silent movie. You know when they got the words up you have to read because they're not talking."

Me: "They're talking, we just can't hear it."

DG: "Well, no shit! And they show the women always like this-" He put the back of his hand on his forehead, his head tilted back and he let out a shrill, "OH!"

Me: "The damsel in distress."

DG: "Exactly."

The music picked up and took on an almost cheerful tone as it went on.

DG: "They killed the monster! They're so happy!"

Me: "It does sound like they're dancing."

DG: "In the square, you know, that town square. And the Gyp- Japanese- Not Japanese. You know, the people with the ladies and dancing?" He raised his hand up and moved it in a circle and said, "Whooooo!"

Me: "Gypsies?" (for the record, our German Shepherd's name is Gypsy- he says that word several times a day)

DG: "Yeah, the Gypsies. They're dancing with the scarves and everyone is having a good time." *heavy sigh* "Its a good thing they killed the monster."

When the next song came on- "Russian Dance" by Stravinsky, he exclaimed, "KING KONG!"

Me: "What the hell does King Kong have to do with anything?"

DG: "You know, it sounds like when he's in the bay, crushing buildings."

Me: "When did King Kong walk through a bay?"

DG: "Godzilla."

Me: "Uh, you were talking about King Kong."

DG: "Same difference."

Then we got to "The Sea and Sinbad's Ship" and DG declared cheerfully: "BEES!" Where I put the ... is where he'd pause. There are a few times when I'd repeat what he said, just to keep the story going, but this is pretty much the conversation we had about the bees.

DG: "Oh, the bees! The bees! They're flying! Oh no! A bear! The bees are chasing the bear because he stole their honey! Run, bear! Sneak to the lake... he'll never make it in time. The bees will get him."

Me: "They'll get him? He's a bear."

DG: "They're in negotiations with a contract."

Me: "For what?"

DG: "For peace talks. Peace between the bear and the bees... They'll shake hands on it."

Me: "How is a bee going to shake hands with a bear?"

DG: "They got six hands! No, there's two to stand on, so they have four. Four hands to shake with, two to stand on... they gotta make a deal with the bear for a truce."

Me: "Does the bear have a cousin who is a lawyer?"

DG: "You know it... They have to get ready for the killer bees because there's going to be a gang-fight with the bumblebees. *loooong pause* Bees are fuzzy."

Me: "That they are. I bet you could make a coat out of them."

DG: "They're always cold."

Me: "They're wearing fur, how could they be cold?"

DG paused again. For a long time. Then he started to giggle.

"Imagine shaving a bee? They'd be shaved. Naked bees! They'd be so embarrassed!"

He started to laugh. Hysterically. When he laughs, if we can get him going, he can't stop. He'll laugh so hard that he can't catch his breath. He has to say "ooooh!" over and over to catch his breath. In between his words, he would try to catch his breath.

"Naked bees! *oooh* The other bees would make fun of them! *oooh* They're naked, with no clothes! *oooh* Standing there! *mmmmmm* Covering their privates! Naked bees! *oooh*..."

I said: "Their wings are transparent too."

DG caught his breath and said, "Oh... ooooh... they're trying to be sexy little critters with see-through wings."

He broke into laughter again. "When the killer bees come, they can send a naked bee out there. The killer bees will die laughing and they'll have a victory!"

After he caught his breath again, he discussed how these naked bees would have to lift weights to get buffed up. They have four arms, so they would have to lift four times as much. They'd start small, with grains of sand, then work their way to dirt, then to pebbles.

I asked why the bees would have to buff up if the killer bees would laugh to death.

He said: "Because what else are naked bees going to do?"

I said to him: "You know where this conversation is going, right?"

DG: "Where?"

Me: "The blog."

DG: "I'll deny it. I'll deny saying anything!"

Me: "Who do you think they'll believe? Me or the guy who talked about rats with little Nike shoes?"

DG: "I wonder if bees wear shoes? No, they'd need gloves for their four hands. Shoes for the two feet. They don't need gloves in California."

Me: "What's in California?"

DG: "That Muscle Beach place, where the bees would lift sand weights."

I personally like how he denied this story, then wrapped it up with bees wearing shoes and working out in California.

When the next song started (Beethoven's "Symphony No. 9 in D Minor"), DG put his hand on his forehead and exclaimed: "OH!" as the damsel in distress.

MAN DOWN! We have a man down! Medic!

Oh, they were good times. Everyone was happy. People were full of jocularity. The Disabled Guy liked his new brain cells. We have photos-



They did itch a little, I guess. How else can we explain this photo?



Today, there was a mishap.

Ever since Christmas Day, when DG opened his brain cells, they sat on the arm of the loveseat, near DG's chair. He'd take them out, comment on how they weren't doing their job, lament when the kids would shake them up.

But today, tragedy struck. Tragedy in a cute package.

This is Bruno. He's cute.



He's seven and a half months old. Here's a photo of him with his parents. (his mother, Luna, and his father, Jasper- in the back). He's larger than both of them now.



He's big for a Chihuahua, but even though he's in that full-grown body, he still has a puppy's brain. And he spotted a stray brain cell. Apparently, they fell off the arm of the loveseat and DG found counting up to three too stressful and didn't check to make sure they were all safe and sound.

We found Bruno across the room, in the dog bed, happily chewing away on a brain cell. DG wailed, "Noooo!! My BRAIN!" then he twitched and flailed his good arm. "My brain has been injured! MEDIC! WE HAVE A MAN DOWN!"

DG scooped up the assaulted brain cell, all the while, wailing "Noooo!" over and over. Then he picked up the stuffing that had been gutted from the poor cell. During this time, I left the room. I heard our son say, "Dad, don't. It isn't going to fit." When I walked back into the living room, DG was forcing the stuffing back inside the little torn hole in the brain cell. It turns out, he was picking up stuffing not only from the offended brain cell, but from some dog toy that had recently been shredded as well.

I need to sew the opening on the brain cell. But even with my horrible sewing, the brain cell may never recover. It has no eyes. The eyes, it seems, have been consumed by the ever-cute, but chews-it-all Bruno. The son said, "Don't worry, Dad, you'll get them back in a few days."

DG exclaimed, "Those eyes will never be the same! My poor brain!"


DG decided that the brain cell might be fine. "It will become a super brain cell. All of its other senses will be enhanced because it ain't got no eyes!"



And so you can see them side-by-side.



Much later in the afternoon, DG looked down at Bruno and said, "You gotta stop eating my brain!"

Bruno's response was to wag his tail furiously and I swear he smiled. It does kind of look like he's smiling in that picture up there...

A pictorial of an alien invasion...

I mentioned a blog or two ago how the Chihuahuas get inside DG's zippered hoodie and snuggle all in and get warm. Well, I now have photos of the "alien" invading his body. With each step, imagine DG crying out in terror: "ALIEN! AAAAAAAYYY-LEEE-UUUUNNNN!

Step one: Climb to the top.



Step two: Step down slightly, paw at the opening of the hoodie till the human cooperates.



Step three: Start the downward climb into the warmth.



Step four: Get all situated and comfy.



Bonus shot- Look over your shoulder at the crazy lady sitting at the computer who keeps taking those flashy pictures.



So, there you have it. Bruno the twelve pound Chihuahua (who is the single offspring of Luna- the six-ish pound Chihuahua, and Jasper- the four pound Chihuahua) is an alien.

The next bit has some swear words. Nothing overly bad, but I don't want to offend. So, this is your warning.

We also have cats, but they don't venture downstairs much- except for Samantha, because we suspect she thinks she's a dog. But, one of our cats- Arwen- is missing a rear leg. She can run and play like the other cats, but she can't jump. She does sort of a "rock-climb" technique to get up on our bed upstairs. Every time we get an animal addition to our family, they eventually learn that DG can't pick them up normally. They have to turn their back to him so he can pick them up one-handed with his left hand. Arwen learned that pretty quickly. She would thump-thump into our room (you can always tell when its her) and go straight up to DG. Then she would turn her back to him, look over her shoulder and meow loudly. His response was to lean over and pick her up. She wanted on our bed and instead of climbing, she'd demand DG lift her up. When he's not in the room, she climbs up without any assistance.

I told him: "She owns you! She's got you trained."

He said: "No, she doesn't!"

I replied: "You're her bitch! She OWNS you!"

He said: "She does not!"

I pointed out that she comes in, turns and meows at him- in essence, ordering him to pick her up! "Meow, bitch, pick my ass up!"

We started to refer to Arwen's doing that as "Meow, bitch!" As in, "Uh-oh, you've just been meow-bitched!"

The Chihuahuas don't meow or bark for their orders. They simply step up to him and stare till he responds. The most common thing is when Luna wants him to get a blanket. She sits next to the chair and stares at him. He'll look down and she'll wag her tail. He responds in one of two ways- he gets up and gets a blanket or he moves to the sofa (where the blankets are) and sits there so Luna can join him. In essence, Luna "meow-bitched" him. All the dogs do it- except Gypsy the German Shepherd. She just voices her loud opinion in her German Shepherd-y way.

Here's a photo of Arwen with Luna. She got up on the sofa herself. DG wasn't in the room when she wanted up.

For my readers who don't post comments much-

I had a chat with my mom (Hi, Mom!) and discovered that lots o' people might not know how to post comments. I sent this link to my friend (she's the awesome lady who gave us Luna and started the Chihuahua love for DG) and DG's parents now have it. Those people are the reasons that I made anonymous comments possible. My mom doesn't like to join and create profiles for sites she's not going to use much (aside from making comments on my blog because I'm her daughter and she thinks I'm cool because she's my mom, so there!).

So, I did a little "tutorial" in screen captures for those who want to comment but don't know how and can't be bothered to click random crap. I did this for my mom way back when for when she had to email photos and now she doesn't call me every time she emails a photo. I was going for over-simplification in this... so don't be offended if you think its too simple... I was also doing this for DG- he sometimes reads his blog and blog comments without me.

Here we go-

At the bottom of the blog, which is also the top of the previous blog, there is a link that says "comments" (sometimes there are 2 comments, sometimes none). Just click on "comments"-


When you click on that, it takes you to this page where you can type in your comment (I circled it in red).



After you type the comment, down lower is the distorted, nonsensical word for security. That way, the blog doesn't get all bogged down with spam-bots.


After you type the comment, then the security-word thing, you can either publish your post right off or click "preview"- if you preview first, this is what shows:



From there you can either publish or edit and go through those steps again.

Once you publish the comment, it should show up like this:



If you choose the "anonymous" thing, just let me know who you are, so I can tell DG.

And there we have it... now you have NO reason not to share your thoughts with DG.

Dogs are aliens... at least in our house.

I mentioned before how DG is cold a lot. We keep the thermostat at 68 degrees in the winter because its expensive to go higher. In the summer, I rarely put it above 72 (and most times, its at 70). That's because anything warmer, I swell up and have my own health issues. See, you can always put on a hoodie, you can't always get naked. Plus, you can always add another layer, you can only get naked and that's it- you can't get MORE naked if you're still warm.

But back to the dog aliens.

We have those Chihuahuas. And Chis by nature, are cold. Ours absolutely hate wearing sweaters. When we put a sweater on Luna, she runs around the house in a frenzy, rolling on the floor and in the dog bed and on blankets till she wriggles out of her sweater. Jasper does the same, but I'm not sure how because he's very stealthy about it. He's got the sweater on... disappears... returns without the sweater. When we put one on Bruno, he walks sideways and falls over like we've drugged him. But all three will climb inside your shirt if you let them.

Whenever DG is wearing a zippered hoodie or even a blanket, at least one Chi will climb inside. And when that dog wakes up and climbs out, the result is always the same.

DG screams and wails, "Its an alien! AAAALLLEEEEE-AAAANNNNN!" and he "dies" in his chair till the "alien" gets bored with it all and jumps down to venture forth on Earth.

Sometimes, if nobody is in the room to enjoy the above spectacle, he'll declare loudly, "I've given birth!" and then he baby talks whichever dog spilled forth from his sweatshirt.

Here is photographic evidence of the "alien invasion".



ALIEN!!

Some Video footage of the Disabled Guy

This video was taken ages ago. At least three years. How can I tell? Because our daughter, Kat, got a new phone and it isn't the phone she has now. And DG has that gawd-awful mustache. We all hated it. The kids named it Jimothy and we referred to it as a separate entity. There was much rejoicing when he let me shave it off with hair clippers. This was shot from between my fingers because we'd been trying to get footage of him and he wised up to the red light on my Canon camera.


My dad being a dork

KatManDu | MySpace Video

This is footage of DG and Jasper, our teacup, tri-color, chocolate Chihuahua. I don't know what to say really... this is how he is with all the Chihuahuas.


A grown man and his puppy

Patty O'Lantern | MySpace Video

Like I've said before, we have three Chihuahuas. Luna was our first. She was given to us by a dear friend with the simple agreement that we breed her at least once (Luna has a rare, yet muted, coloring called "merle"). Well, we've actually bred her three times. This video is from the second time. (Bruno, our third Chi, is the result of her third breeding- he was a litter of one). This footage is of DG trying to get his morning coffee. When Luna has pups, we keep them in the kitchen because its the easiest room to block off, easiest to clean (tile), and the warmest room in our old drafty house. As you can tell, DG had a cold (this was in December of 2008).


Luna's puppies love slippers

Patty O'Lantern | MySpace Video

This isn't really about the DG, but I've mentioned our three Chihuahuas a lot. That's only because DG uses them as a blanket (that is, they're lap dogs) and he treats them like babies. Gypsy is our German Shepherd (obviously) and we've had her longer than all the Chis. Gypsy loves the Chis and protects them. They sleep together and play. But, since DG is in this video, I'm including it. Gypsy hates snow shovels.


My dog hates snow shovels

Patty O'Lantern | MySpace Video

There you have it. DG in video form. And for fun, here are the side-by-side photos of him before and after I got rid of Jimothy.

Owls, the sun, baby-talk and a lecherous kitchen

We have three kids. Kathrine (Kat), age 20; Jason (Jase), age 18; Christine (Ceej), age 16. So, if you do the math, they were 5, 3, and not quite 2 when the stroke happened. Kat has vague memories of him from before the stroke. Jase and Ceej have none.

When Kat was having a typical teen moment several years ago- and if you have a teen, know someone who has a teen, or were once a teen yourself, you know what I'm talking about- a drama moment. I don't remember what the drama episode was about, but there was much arm-flailing and whining culminating with her stomping up the stairs.

At this moment, DG said, using a dramatic tone, "OH! All the OWLS of the SUN!"

Everyone including Kat stopped. There was a simultaneous "Say what?" from the family.

DG said, again with dramatic flair, "All the OWLS of the SUN!"

I asked, "All the owls of the sun?"

DG: "What? No. I didn't say that."

Me: "You did." with agreements from the kids.

DG: "You know that show? They do that thing. My mom used to watch it?"

For the record, we didn't grow up together. We're both Army brats. I have no idea what shows his mother watched while he was growing up. I took a shot in the dark and said, "Soap operas?"

Yes... In DG-speak, "all the OWLS of the SUN!" translates into "Like sands through the hourglass, these are the days of our lives!"

We still use it when someone has a drama moment. It generally stops the drama from becoming a full-blown hissy fit.

Here's a photo of him, before he was the Disabled Guy, and Ceej. I'm not entirely certain when the photo was taken, but judging by Ceej's age (around one year old) and Jerry's uniform and tan, it was the Summer of 1994 (Ceej's birthday is in the summer). Less than a year later, he had the stroke.



Now, about the baby-talk. We have three Chihuahuas and a German Shepherd. I've mentioned that before, but I'm mentioning it again. DG baby-talks the Chis all the time. But he uses the same string of baby-talk and on any given day, it means something different.

"Ah-dah-boo-dah-bay-bee"... it can mean: "You're okay", "Everything will be all right", "Daddy loves you", "C'mon let's go", and any number of other things, including: "It don't mean nothing. Just ask 'em. They know."

Here's a photo of the three Chihuahuas being lulled into a coma by him watching a NASCAR race.



Since I had my knee replacement surgery, I have to be careful how I walk and do certain things. One of the things I don't do much anymore is carry heavy things (aside from my own ass, which is a different story). So, when it comes time for grocery shopping and unloading at home, I sit it out.

DG is on blood thinners and from that (we assume) he gets colder than usual. We're not entirely sure that's true, but it seems to be, so we'll go with it. DG has a selection of hoodies that he wears and on this particular day, he was wearing his zippered hoodie. With all the bending and such that goes along with putting groceries away, his hoodie slipped off his shoulder on his paralyzed side. I saw this and asked him what happened.

He looked down at his shoulder and said, "The kitchen tried to take advantage of me."

So if you ever come visit, you'll have to be wary of the attacking blankets and the lecherous kitchen.