Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Note to self: (and any others who may benefit).
Sometimes items that are in the dollar bin are there for, shall I be blunt, hmmm, the lack of quality of said item.
i.e. (forgive me X-ta, this is a granddog post)some plastic bags are superior to others.
Plastic bags are a necessary part of walking the dogs. For the more delicate readers and those who may be eating, this is because dogs who walk sometimes relax enough to do their business along the trail. If one chose not to clean up that business and everyone else refused to do so, too, then the trail walk would no longer be pleasant. Trust me.
So yesterday on our walk, as per usual, 22 grabbed her plastic bags. This time she grabbed the bags from the dollar bin.
And as per usual, the dogs did their business. I have the enviable position of watching over the dogs while she scoops. (her dogs, her business) During the first swoop and scoop she muttered and then growled. "Yuck!!! I got some on me." And then as she scooped the second business byproduct she shrieked and held up the bag that had become kind of a funnel. The whole bottom had ripped out in the scoop attempt and she grabbed the stuff with her bare hand.
Repeat after me....Ewww!