don't touch my poodle ...

So ... this is my first post on my first blog. I really have no idea why I signed up for a blog and I really have no expectations about it. I can't even figure out how to make it look cool. It took 20 minutes to find background templates to play with and then another 30 minutes to try to remove one that I didn't want. I honestly have no idea if I actually removed the background and I have no idea if it will appear or not once I post this.

I have no idea if I can spell check either. I sure hope so, otherwise whomever reads this without it being spell checked is in for a real reading treat. That makes me wonder if anyone WILL read this. If someone is-- if YOU are -- I suppose I should be grateful and thank you for stopping by. Thank you for stopping by.

In general,I have a whole lot of nothing to say and I sometimes put it into words. Those words usually end up on facebook as "notes". They are more like essays than stories, but I call them stories. They are my thoughts, my views, my opinions, and no animals are harmed in the process of making my notes. Unless you consider notes about the food I eat equating to harming animals ... I eat meat. Not as much as I used to. OK, that's not true. I eat just the same amount as I always have. I just like it.

That reminds me of a story from when I was little. I was maybe six or seven years old. I lived on Eden Avenue. That is the first house I ever lived in. We had steak for dinner one night and chocolate cake for dessert. My mom, dad, and sisters finished their dinner first. I was lagging behind in the mastication department because once I knew chocolate cake was for dessert, I wanted nothing of the steak.

My mom wasn't having any of it -- my behavior that is, not the cake. She was having cake, and so were my dad and my sisters. My mom cut my steak into pieces and said that I couldn't have cake until I finished my steak.

Stubborn me decided that the fastest way to get to cake was by putting all of the steak into my mouth. There I was, a tiny child with a tiny mouth filled with big steak. I chewed and chewed and then realized there was no way I would be able to swallow it all and cake was not in my future. I was embarrassed, I was cake hungry, and I was frustrated. I cried. I cried hard and loudly. My mom put out her hand, I spit out my steak, and I think (I honestly can't remember) I ate cake.

My sisters, I am sure, were sitting across the dinette table laughing and making fun of me. They were excellent at that, but I love them both deeply today despite their childhood meanishness. (More about that in later posts ...)

In the meantime, i wonder if anyone wonders if there is significance in this blog's name. Well ... if you are, you are about to find out. My sisters reminded me of a family "pet name" for something while I was seeking input on a trick taught to our family dog, Fritzy. The Facebook messaging exchange went like this:

SCOTT: What do you remember of the trick "costs money" that Fritz did? Do you remember how we played this?

CANDACE: Mmmmm... I don't remember, but I remember we did it. Maybe telling him to sit ... and we would just say ... it costs money ... then give him a treat ... ??? I don't know.. I don't remember anything anymore ... I'm telling you ... I'm going to have dementia and live in a home....

SCOTT: You already have dementia and you already live in a home. You've arrived!!

CHRISTY: Hi Guys ... Here's how the trick went - (very close to what Kiki said so she doesn't have dementia!)....Put the treat out in front of him and make him sit... "cost money ... cost $, okay it's paid for". Then he could eat it.

SCOTT: I remember everything that you said above, but what was the payment? Didn't he have to do something to "pay for it"? Did he have to put out his paw? Give a kiss? Something? What equaled payment? I can't remember.

CANDACE: He would just sit ... then he could have the treat ... I remember now from Christy's story .... What ... are you trying to teach Victor that?

CHRISTY: Okay....yes. He did have to "pay for it"... he would lift his paw. I think we'd say, "you need to pay for it..." and then when he lifted his paw, "it's paid for!" I think we should ask Dad. Wasn't it his trick? Anyway, laughed last night because I told Chris about "poodle"...so funny :)

SCOTT: Grampa harry taught him the trick according to mom. Not sure when though. I think you're right. I know he had to pay ... I think that's how he paid ...What was the funny thing about "poodle"?

CANDACE: That is what we called your weenie!

SCOTT: Oh my. I don't remember that. That's Victor's nickname!

CANDACE: What? You don't remember that? How could you not remember that????

SCOTT:Do you remember what we called your vaginas?

CANDACE: Uh no ...I do not!

SCOTT: I don't either, but if we all knew a nickname for it, you might have blocked it out, too.

CHRISTY: Okay you two I am LMFAO! I CANNOT BREATHE!! Since we're talking vaginas .... do you know the story of Kevin and cha cha's?

SCOTT: No. Do tell.

Well, she hasn't told yet and if she does I don't think I want to know about it. But, if you are interested, look in the near future for the finished story of Fritzy and "costs money" and try to wash your ears and eyes -- and memory -- of the fact that my family had a pet name for my pecker.