Dog Farts

Bella just farted and I think the noise scared her a smidge.  She looked around like, "Who was that?" She makes me laugh daily.

She also burps after she eats. Not like a little one either...it's a belch. A loud one.  I have never met a dog with more human-ish bodily functions.

Scuffle at the Nursing Home

I just went to visit my grandma (Mamaw) in Ohio this past weekend. She lives in an "assisted living facility". AKA Nursing Home.

Me with my sweet Mamaw

 Now I had never been privy to the goings on of such a place before, so upon entry I found myself holding my breath and feeling a little nervous. My sister Heather, who had come on the trip with me, had warned me of the sights, sounds, and, yes, smells of the place.  If you had heard the stories, you would be nervous too.

Well, it turned out not to be so bad...if you could ignore the constant smell of #2 and the woman two rooms down screaming, "SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!".  But overall, the nurses were kind and the residents were very pleasant.  Most of them would call out an excited greeting as they shuffled (or scooted in a wheel chair) past you in the hallway.

My favorite times at the "facility" took place in the dining hall.  Heather and I would pull up chairs to Mamaw's table and chit-chat with her table mates. Our ears were frequently caught tidbits of conversation between the other residents and the nurses such as, "Just one more bite!", or "Swallow that pill now," and sometimes just general moaning from residents that were more severely disabled.  During one particularly noisy period, Mamaw's table mate nudged me and said, "They sound like a bunch of wolves, don't they?" Comic relief. I think if I hadn't laughed, I would have cried.

Now for the absolute highlight of the trip.  We are sitting in the dining hall when a fight breaks out.  Little-Smoker-Lady-with-No-Dentures had finally had enough of Big-Bossy-Overbearing-Woman's crap.  Name calling ensues.  "SHUT UP!!!", "YOU SHUT UP!", "Why don't you just leave everyone the hell alone!", "Mind your own damn business!", "Ahh, go F*** yourself!!!".  Words I never thought I would hear from an 80 year old. After the two had been broken up and everything was settling back down, the nurse walks by our table and says casually, "Ya, we double as bouncers..." Classic.

Here are some more pictures from our eventful stay in Cincinnati:

Heather, Mamaw & I at Bob Evans.

Mamaw scarfed her Biscuits&Gravy:)

Aunt Pam, Aunt Mary, Mamaw, Heather and Me

Heather and Karla (who was a wonderful hostess)

My cousins Thomas and Ryan. They're my boys:)

Mamaw was a hairstylist. She used to give me haircuts

while I sat on her dryer.  Now I get to do her hair!

(That's Big-Bossy-Overbearing-Woman in the background. 

Would you want to mess with her?)

I have a dream.

"I have a dream," but not quite like Martin Luther King Jr.  Mine did not involve concise in-depth topics such as integration, but rather many strange happenings blended together to form one very confusing delusional fantasy including but not limited to: attack dogs, hiking a 14er with my 87 year old grandmother, living on a pirate ship, and my little sister going missing and turning up in Europe just having bought a brand new sports car. I have no idea how I come up with these things.

I don't have these dreams very often. But when I do, they are intense and so vividly resemble real life that I usually wake fairly certain that one or all of the events of the night actually occurred.  For instance that my dog Bella chewed every square inch of wood in my house, and then I'm actually mean to her in the morning.  Or that both of my front teeth fell out. (That one really, truly scared me. I love my teeth. They're pretty.)

I also tend to talk in my sleep a lot. Ask my husband. He has stories. Like after working 9 days straight at Bongo's (a coffee shop) asking Robin if he would like "room for cream in your coffee?". Or after playing poker one night screaming at him saying, "I HAVE ACE, KING!!!".  And last night I physically shook him awake and told him that he should, "get a job with the passports" (I had just applied for one) There is never a dull moment in our bedroom...get your mind out of the gutter.

Ode to a Piercing

A nose piercing in fact. As in I received one yesterday.

Scene 1: Enter Rachelle.
Rachelle to friend that she sees daily: "I think I want to get my nose pierced."
Friend: "I thought you had your nose pierced!"
Rachelle: "Interesting. Did you also happen to think that I looked good with it done?"

Scene 2: Enter another friend that she sees daily.
Rachelle to friend that she sees daily: "I'm thinking about getting my nose pierced."
Friend #2: "Don't you already have your nose pierced?"

Can you sense the monotony? This continues to go on with a number of unobservant people. I finally decide that, hey, if they all think that I already have it done, it will surely look good. Decision made.

Scene 2, Shrap Metal: Enter Rachelle.

As an aside, I really enjoy going into Tattoo shops. Is this strange? The seedy entry pockmarked with equally sketchy persons talking about what obscene body part they plan on decorating, the smell of cigarettes wafting from the back, and the hilariously crass man handing out forms at the front desk all blend to form an experience that I can only label strangely enthralling. I find myself trying to inch the collar of my shirt over far enough so that one of them will glimpse my backpiece. I love talking about it. Maybe it's because I secretly want them to know that I belong there. I know it's stupid, but I think it's my adolescent hardcore groupie (not literally) past resurfacing. At any rate, there is a part of me that feels at home in said locations.

Rad Piercer Guy to Rachelle: "Are you nervous?"
Rachelle: "No...I mean a little. Yes. I'm nervous."
Rad Piercer Guy: It'll be over before you know it."
Rachelle closes eyes and clenches jaw.
Ow. I don't care who says it doesn't hurt. This is coming from a girl who has 10 hours worth of ink on her back. It hurt. Like a mother.

But it was beautiful.

Scene 3, Rachelle's House: Enter friend that sees Rachelle daily.
Friend: Babbling on about life notices Rachelle pointing at her nose. "What?"
Rachelle: "I got my nose pierced!"
Friend: "Well, ya, I noticed it, but I thought that you'd always had it?!"
Rachelle: *sigh*