Spoiled Tortoise

Comments Off on Spoiled Tortoise

My wife has African desert tortoise. She purchased the little guy when he was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand in 2006. He was maybe 2.5” across. Now, he weights over 25 lbs and is 24” by 18”, and nothing stops him when he wants to walk.

She calls her pet Harley and he is a mess. Harley s spoiled rotten to the core. Most tortoises will try to bite you and are not that friendly, but not Harley. When she takes him to the vet and the doctor wants him to try to bite him so he can see inside his mouth, Harley has none of that. Harley is accustomed to people touching him, and he just sets there, looks at the vet and ignores him. Harley has human contact every day, and it does not bother him. The vets at Texas AM University Veterinarian School are amazed with Harley, and when he is in town, everyone drops by to see him.

We have friends in Florida that have tortoises for pets. They place the food out for them, and they eat whole heads of lettuces. Not Harley. Harley requires that my wife chop up his food and place it on a plate each day. He will turn his nose up to food that my wife leaves whole or large leafy. Tomatoes and cucumbers must cut up, and the cucumbers peeled. Otherwise, he would not touch the items. Picky is not the right word.

My wife takes Harley for a walk now and then around the neighborhood. The neighbors refer to my wife as the turtle lady. All the kids follow her around watching Harley and laughing about him and talking to him. Harley ignores the kids and the other pets, unless the pets enter into his yard. Cats, he doesn’t mind. We raised him with cats. Dogs, he can’t stand and will go after them.

Every 3 or 4 days Harley gets a bath. You would think an African tortoise would not care for the water, but you would be wrong. Harley loves the water. My wife fills a plastic container with warm water and places Harley in the container. As soon as she places Harley in the water, he spreads his legs out, and he lays in the water as low as he can get without his head going under the water. He will lay there for about 30 to 45 minutes. Then he starts moving around indicating he is ready to get out. She removes Harley from the water, dries him off, and Harley is happy for another 3 or 4 days.

My wife built Harley a special home so that when he is ready to sleep, at night, he can crawl inside and be in the dark and away from the environment. If it rains, he can remain dry. When it gets cold heaters come on to keep him warm. The tortoise lives as comfortable a life as we do.

Does anyone have a spoiled pet story that can match this one. I want to hear it. It something were to happen to my wife. I’m not sure who would take care of this spoiled tortoise.

Thinks We Do On Mothers Day

Comments Off on Thinks We Do On Mothers Day

We are young, dumb, and stupid. It’s Mothers Day, and our son is just four months old. I have been fretting over what to get my wife for her first Mothers Day. If we had to have, two penny’s to pee in a pot, we would have to hold it. We were that poor back then. I couldn’t let her first Mother’s Day pass without a gift of some kind.

I had worked on the weekend’s scraping enough money together to buy one rose and a card. I gathered aluminum cans, sold them back to the stores, and raised enough money to purchase these two items. I was proud of myself.

I placed the card and rose on the table that morning so she would notice it when she walked out of the bedroom.

Our son woke at his usual time. I changed his diaper, feed him, and played with him until he fell asleep on the floor. He looked so innocent laying there, and I couldn’t wait for my wife to awaken and see her gift.

She sleep late that morning and when she walked out of the bedroom she was surprised to see the yellow rose, her favorite, on the table and picked it up and stuck it to her nose. Immediately she began to have trouble breathing. I’m running around trying to figure out what to do. I rushed her to the car and to the hospital.

At the hospital, they determined that she had an allergic reaction to something on the rose. It was while at the hospital that I remembered that our son was still laying on the floor of our apartment asleep and alone.

I had forgotten about him in all the fuss and my wife never asked about him. While the doctors worked on my wife, I searched for a quarter, to call my neighbor to get my son. I asked several people at the hospital for a quarter, and they all refused. As stated previously, back then we were broke, penniless, couldn’t pee in a pot.

It was an old woman, who looked as if she had less money than we did, that reached in her pocket, pulled out a quarter, and handed it to me. I thanked her and wished her a happy Mother’s Day. Mothers always seem to know when they have to come to the rescue.

I called my neighbor in a panic, and she went next door, got our son, and took care of him until we made it home four hours later. My wife never forgave me for this. She was mad to the bitter end. We arrived home, and she went straight to bed and slept the rest of the day.

You see, my wife wasn’t angry about our son, she was mad about the rose. She never asked about our son. Not once, even when we returned home. It was all about the rose.

What I didn’t understand was the massive train wreck headed my way in the next two years, and this was the first indication. I was blind to the first symptom.

Have you ever looked back and examined your life, and realized that if you had paid attention to that one small detail, how different your life would have been. God provides the warning signs; he just doesn’t make them as large as billboards. Sometimes there as small as a few words, a single sentence, four hours out of a day.

How Many Angles Does It Take?


I set in the window and watched as the rain fell to the ground. It had started raining just a few minutes earlier, and the longer I sat there the harder it rained. As each drop struck the ground, it formed an umbrella with more drops spreading out across the ground. I watched as puddles began to form, and rivers began to flow away from each puddles forming into larger rivers before reaching the street.

It wasn’t long, the curbs along the street began to flow like rushing rivers, and the tires from the parked cars acted like boulders in the rivers trying to block the rushing water.

To a small boy of six, it seemed as if the rain would never stop, and it appeared to be raining harder by the minute.

I was startled when the babysitter touched my shoulder, “Do you enjoy watching the rain David?”

I stared up into the babysitter’s eyes, “Do you know why it rains?” I asked her. I often wondered why it rained. At my age, I did not know and was curious about where the rain came from. I remember she smiled at me and looked out the window and stared at the rain and watched it for several seconds.

“The rain comes from the Angels tears, they’re crying because a child has died.” She still had her hand on my shoulder, squeezed it slightly, and smiled. Then she turned and walked away.

I set there watching the rainfall and wondering about her statement. I thought about the number of times that I had cried and how few tears I actually shed. I thought about how many angels it must take to shed that many tears for this much rain. It would take many Angels for this much rain.

Eventually the rain began to slow and then stopped, and I sat in the window watching the river in the street fade away to nothing. Then she said it was bedtime.

Later that night I awoke to the sound of rain on the roof. From my bed, I could see out a window and I lay there watching the rain. I wondered if another child had died. I could see the moon and watch the rain as it fell from the sky. Eventually the rain stopped, and I drifted off to sleep.

Two days later, I was sitting at the breakfast table, and I heard my father start reading a story to my mother from the newspaper. It was an extremely disturbing story about a small child placed into an oven by a babysitter while the parents had gone out for the evening. It turns out that the incident happened the night that it rained.

My mind raced forward wondering if the babysitter had known something about this or if she were a witch. The whole thing scared the pee waddling out of me.

A few months later, my parents decided to go out with friends and told my brothers and me that they were going to have the same babysitter sit with us. As soon as I heard the same wicked witch would set us, I raced into my bedroom and grabbed my baseball bat and then into the living room where my mother was standing.

I started screaming at the top of my lungs, “No no, you cannot have that witch take care of us.” The more my mother asks why the louder I got. I begin to bang the bat on the floor, screaming that much louder. “No the witch cannot take care of us.”

My mother finally gave in and found another babysitter for that night. Our oldest brother was four years older than I was and after that, we started taking care of ourselves. My parents never were able to get me to explain why I felt the way I did.

To this day, I have been unable to convince myself that girl was not involved in some way with what went down that night. She just seemed to understand what was happening. I could be wrong and hope that I am. Every time it rains, I think that somewhere in the world something horrible is happening to a child.

I ask myself, how many angels does it take to make that many raindrops?

Live At Home Children

Comments Off on Live At Home Children

I have a dear friend that I have known since we were 9. We both grow up with parents in the Air Force. Over the years, now and then, our paths would cross when our dad’s would get station at a base at the same time. We would know when the other headed our way, because our dad’s would come home and tell us that he had talked to the others dad. We couldn’t wait to see each other and see how we had changed.

We have tried our best to stay in touch. It has mostly been through a phone call and email. I have only seen him twice since we parted ways the last time we were together at Barksdale AFB in Bossier City in 1967.

There was always something about him that bothered me, not in a negative way. It wasn’t that I thought he was gay or anything like that. This guy could get a girl without even trying. I watched him pickup two girls one night, and take them both back to his house while his parents were out of town.

He was smart. Never studied and made straight A’s. I never saw Bryan pick up one book. Was up till one or two in the morning and then always up in time to go to school.

His mom took care of him like a small child. She woke him up each morning at the same time and started his shower for him. She made his breakfast each morning. She washed all his clothes, cleaned his room. Made sure she ironed his clothes, even his jeans. His life was perfect. If I had asked my mom to iron my jeans, she would have laughed me out of the house.

I spoke to Bryan when he was 33 Yrs old. He was working for a firm on Walls St making well over $500,000 a year. Killer money.

Never married …, Not Gay … several girl friends … none live in.

Still living at home with his parents. They retired, moved to NY so they could be close to Bryan. He purchased a large home so they could all live together. She still did all things for him at 33 she did when he was an adolescent.

Do you know where this is going … ?

When I saw the cover of Time magazine this week, I had to call Bryan and ask the ???.

“Bryan, how old where you when your mom stopped breast feeding you?”

“That’s kind of personal David. But, since we are close friends and my mom has passed away, and I know where you’re going with this, I was 7 almost 8 and my dad came home from work and blew a gasket.”

This answered every question I ever had about Bryan.

The only thing the picture on the cover of Time magazine is missing is the partner on the other tit. That would complete the circle of life.

Friendship A Fickle Weenie

Comments Off on Friendship A Fickle Weenie

My wife asked me to go to a birthday party last night. It was for her cousin Nick. He’s one of her favorite cousins, and when he was in the hair business, he did her hair every month.

He’s now happily married and lives across town from us. When I say across town, it’s a good 45 min. drive.

When we arrived, Nick’s wife Sherry greeted us at the door. She welcomed us into her home but seemed surprised we were there. When Nick showed a few minutes later, his comment was, “well I am surprised you even attended my party.” He was talking more to my wife than me.

It was evident by the look on my wife’s face that the comment hurt her feelings. As mentioned earlier, my wife went to Nick religiously to have her hair done when he was a beautician. She attended his wedding. I think she may have even helped with the planning. Helped him move into his new home, and often went to lunch whenever he called and asked. Several times, she has made trips see Nick and his wife in their new home just to visit. The idea that she would not attend his birthday party surprised her. I even think she attended last year’s party.

Sherry mentioned she had food in the kitchen to which we mentioned we had already eaten. She seemed displeased with the response we gave her, turned around, and walked out of the room.

Nick asked my wife what she wanted to drink, and she asked for wine, her usual choice of poison. He advised her that since he did not expect her to attend, and everyone else drank hard liquor he had no wine. At this point being the, “AH” I can be, I asked her if she were ready to leave. She wanted to stay.

Nick disappeared and did not reappear for some time. Understanding that it is his birthday, and he can do as Nick pleases, it does seem to me that he could have confirmed one way or the other. Especially with a friend who has attended many other events in his life, and in the past he seemed to enjoy spending time with. But this night was different. Maybe it was the fact I was there. I don’t play his games.

Friendship is a fickle weenie. We only use it when it suits us. We only desire it when it benefits us. Other times we shove it to the side. We may try to cover up all these reactions and say it ain’t so, but that ain’t so.

Over the years, I have traveled a lot in the good old US of A. I was in the field of Engineering and Construction, building Communication systems around the USA. I have met many people. I have met their families and children. Got to know them and had BBQ and had fun. Called them my friends.

However, later, when they discovered that I couldn’t do anything for them as the years passed by. It was all over. If I am close by on a trip or traveling on vacation, hell, so called friends wouldn’t even have time to say hello. We only use it when it suits us.

We form clicks and shut the rest out. We only want those that qualify or meet our (poor)standards to be our friends. The problem is our standards may not be that convincing when viewed from the other side of the tracks.

It’s as the guy that everyone thinks is the most outstanding man in the neighborhood, church going straight shooter. Only to discover he is part of a large ring of pedophiles. When the police arrests him all you hear is, I never knew, I can’t image, he was such a terrific guy.

I guess we need friends and family to remind us about our enemies.

Hard Sometimes To say No

Comments Off on Hard Sometimes To say No

Just say “No.” That seems to be what many psychologists tell us to do now days. In one of my previous post on my blog, I commented about the amount of time that many of the members of our WANA group seem to spend on twitter and Facebook. It seems to me that some of them spend close to 24 hours a day on their twitter account. I am confident that I am wrong but based on the times of the post it appears that way.

During the last several months, I have spent less time on twitter and Facebook. I am actually trying to break myself away from both of these social media program. Not full time, but less than in the past. I found myself waking up each morning and starting both programs, and then spending long hours each day searching the post on twitter for stories that I could comment about. It was taking up more and more of my time. Which meant less time writing?

The same thing was happening on Facebook. Before I knew it, I have four different Facebook pages and spending my time jumping from Facebook account to Facebook account.

The stress level in my life was beginning to rise. No wonder my life seems to be growing shorter, by the day. Then I read an article that said all of the different social media outlets, as well as e-mail, raise your stress level each time you use them. The Dr. that wrote the article recommended that you take a break from all the social media outlets for a week at a time and see how different the stress in your life became.

I tried it. It was unbelievable how different my life became. How easy it was to fall asleep at night. How different the food felt during digestion. I even found myself calling my friends on my phone rather than texting them.

I remember reading a message on Facebook one day. A member of our WANA group wrote that they were experiencing a difficult time trying to figure out what to post on their blog. I believe they use the word stress, stressing out over what to post.

This brought home to me the fact that we stress out over ideas to post on our blogs. Were we so concerned about what we were going to post on our blogs that we allowed it to stress our lives and change the way we deal with our life on a daily bases. It forced me to start re-examining the way I deal with my life. And, whether or not I wanted to live a stressful life just to keep twitter and Facebook as a means of communication.

There is no way my life, is defined by what is in my twitter, Facebook, and Blog. For some people, it appears so.

I made the decision that if I found something compelling to post on my blog, twitter or Facebook then I would post it so others could read. But if I came across something interesting, then my blog would go without a new post. I was not going to stress myself out, beat my head against the wall, and try to re-examine the entirety of my life just to find something to post.

Sure, I could find some political statement to make those others may or may not wish to hear. However, I do not feel like making my blog into some political hack blog. I want my blog to be the type of blog that every one of every makeup would enjoy reading.

Life is stressful enough as it is, without adding the stress of twitter, Facebook and a blog. Trying to write books and sell them has become even more stressful with the coming doom of the Death Star Six. Dealing with a family and friends who are jealous of your success makes life even more stressful.

On top of that for those who have a family, you have the rigors of taking care of that family and keeping them happy. Life is nothing but one gigantic stress. Then you add twitter, Facebook, a blog and e-mail.

Just say, “No.”

Things that Go Bump In The Night

Comments Off on Things that Go Bump In The Night

I have been looking forward to the presidential elections, the race between Romney and Obama. That is until Obama started injecting the student loan program into the race.

The $1 trillion that is currently owed by all the outstanding student loan debt scares the “Hell out of me.” The idea that president Obama could decide to ask Congress to pay off that debt if he were to be reelected is probably the best reason I know not to put him back into office.

President Obama is visiting several campuses speaking to the student body. Do you think those kids are hoping to hear one thing? “I plan to ask congress to help pay off your student loan debt.”

First, we had Tarp. I admit that was not all his fault. The government used billions of dollars of our tax dollars and put the banks back on their feet. The government spent billions of dollars putting the auto industry back on their feet. Actually, it was more Obama put the unions back on their feet because he owed them for his election.

Then Obama spent $1 trillion trying his best to get the economy headed in the right direction. That failed. Yes, yes, I know, there are those that feel it accomplished what the money was supposed to do.

Then rich man Warren Buffet started talking about how the rich should pay their fair share. Now he’s spending $1 million to get Congress to hand over $83 million for his friends, so they do not get taxed on their jet rides.

If Pres. Obama is re-elected into office, it will not be long afterwards that he will be standing in front of Congress asking them to pass a law paying off the trillions of dollars owed in student loans. He will explain that it is the only way to help these young people get back on their feet.

Ask yourself this question. How many young people do you think, right now, are thinking the same thing? Students who cannot find a job and there are many, considering the idea of continuing their education. The students continuing to build their student loans, with the idea that, at some point in the future, the federal government will pay off the loans. I think a large majority.

That is actually how I think many of the young people nowadays think. That is how they were raised. Their parents raised them with the idea that there’s a man in a white suit, on a white horse, who will come riding, out of the sunset, to save their day. They never stop to think about what reality is all about. That is why we are in the mess we are in.

I recently heard an interview of a college graduate with $100,000 in student loan debt. She said if she had known this would turn out the way it had, she wouldn’t have gone to college. She thought she would go to school, graduate, get a great job, and pay off her debt in less than 10 years. Now it could be 15 to 20 years or more.

Can someone say Greece.

Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: