Welcome to my world!

My life's been crazy since my Daddy moved in with me immediately after my mother's death in October 2010. My one and only kiddo headed to college at Carolina at the end of August. So...I lived on my own, for the first time in my life, for a total of a blissful six weeks. Then, I started the parenting gig with my dad. He's a combination of a grouchy old man, a surly teenager and a temperamental toddler. Needless to say, I get very close to the brink of insanity sometimes. I get through life by finding the humor in difficult circumstances. And for some reason, I wind up in the weirdest situations. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I wind up having lots and lots crazy adventures which make great stories to share with my friends. Writing about my life is so therapeutic. My ramblings range from funny to sad to angry (full of cuss words) to sweet. While my focus is dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a parent to my Daddy, I have lots of random, totally unrelated posts. Whatever's on my mind. I love to make people laugh, and I'm happy to think my readers will get my strange sense of humor. And maybe, people who are in my situation will be encouraged. That's all I can hope for...

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

It's Official. I live in a swamp.

I went to my church client this morning and did great work. I was focused for a change. And not in a chatty mood, so didn't waste time catching up with the secretary. I paid a buncha bills and got April 80% closed. I rewarded myself with a trip to Payless. I got a cute pair of sandals and some of those toner shoes. That's what I need, something to make my butt sorer. My playground spill is setting in. By tonight, I'll be all stove up.

Got home and worked on organizing my office. With Sarita's help, natch. The D came running in, shouting something about something outside. Sarita and I ran after him. I thought maybe it was an angry Comcast employee with an Uzi. Damn. It was a silly snake. I started to get the hoe, but the shovel was right there. The D had disabled it. But it wasn't dead. I grabbed the shovel and tried to sever its head from its body. Don't judge me. I'm not an evil Republican trying to annihilate the entire animal kingdom. Said snake wasn't a garter snake. Not green. He had a diamond pattern - I think he was a cotton mouth. Or something poisonous. I've read about snakes and how to determine if they're poisonous.

He seemed pretty much disabled. His head wasn't severed but I think he had a fatal injury. Like a broken back, which I narrowly missed on the monkey bar fall this morning. He could still curl his tail and flick his red, forked tongue. But I wasn't afraid. Sarita and The D were another matter.

As always, my blog is in the back of my mind. Or the front. So I ran and grabbed my camera. I took a picture of the poor schmuck snake. Then I decided to make Sarita take a picture of me holding it. She was pretty freaked out. But I made her do it. Put it on telephoto so she wouldn't have to get close.

Then I decided to chase The Daddler with it. I was surprised to find out that he was terrified of my new pet. I made Sarita take pictures of the fun. He was running and saying, "Get that damn thing away from me." Funny. Maybe he'll think twice before fucking with me.

Wonder why I'm not scared of snakes? Maybe because I held one in h.s. biology. I wanted to grab it by the jaws and get a pic of its fangs, but I thought better of it. There's fearless and there's stupid. Sarita said she was ready to drive me to the emergency room. I remembered the Aussie dude who got impaled by a stingray, so I decided to let it go. I went in the house and washed the salmonella from my hands. Sarita said she was shaking.

Oh, well. I was overdue for an adventure. Lately, I've had more than my share...


  1. how to tell poisonous (venomous) snakes from non-poisonous (non-venomous): http://www.manbir-online.com/htm2/snake.pn.htm

  2. Whoa. I feel terrible, Dude. I did an autopsy of sorts and it turns out my poor reptile was an innocent victim. I'd feel worse if The D hadn't already dealt the fatal blow.

    I finished the job. Severed his head. Snake's, not The D's. His tongue was still flicking so I placed his head on the concrete and smashed it with the shovel. Damn, it felt so primitive. And he seemed so pitiful. I'm not gonna let myself think about his wife and kids.

    Little friend had a rounded head, round pupils and a double row on his anal plate. I bravely squeezed his little dead head and he didn't have fangs. So glad his little red tongue didn't move - hopefully he was out of his misery. It was a little spooky that his tail was still moving. I guess it's like a chicken with its head cut off. The neurons are still firing.

    The D wants to throw him away, but I'm going to plant him under my fern and think of him often. And fondly...