Menopausal Mother

     Welcome to another edition of Fly On The Wall group blog postings hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. Today, seven bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you'd see if you were a fly on the wall in their homes.

     It has been a fun (but hot) month for us here in Florida. We hosted a bridal shower for my son's fiancée (plenty of shenanigans going on there!) and then spent the other weekends at the local Renaissance Festival where we donned costumes and ate giant turkey legs while watching a few comedy shows. I had a wonderful surprise when one of my blogger pals came into town and spent an evening with me in the tiki hut. Parri is a hilarious comedian and we laughed well into the night.


     I am fortunate enough to be married to a man who has made it his life's goal to make me laugh every single day, and so far, he has. Our conversations are never dull, and that pesky fly buzzing around my house can verify it by what he overheard this month:



"This candle is supposed to smell really good. The scent is called, 'Best Friends'."
"I don't know who you're hanging around with, but your best friends smell like lavender and kitty litter."

"I can't wait until the new season of Game Of Thrones begins!"
"Yeah, I'm getting a little tired of watching those tear-jerking episodes of This Is us. I'd much rather move onto decapitations, fire-breathing dragons, and sword fighting with White Walkers."


"How's the memoir writing coming along?"
"Not good---I have writer's block. The creative flow is not something I can control."
"Neither are my bowels after eating too much of your cabbage soup."


"I've been having weird dreams lately about alligators and cockroaches giving birth to millions of little babies. But I think I've dreamt this stuff before."
"Yeah, when you were pregnant."
"I'm way too old to get pregnant, but I'm not too old to carry a food baby."
"I'd have nightmares too if I ate a diet of chocolate raisins and avocado toast every day."

"We need to do the stool sample kits for our doctor so he can check us for cancer."
"Cancer doesn't run in my family."
"How do you know? You're adopted."
"I have my DNA results from Ancestory.com"
"We all know that your DNA test confirmed that you're related to a ferret, and ferrets can get cancer."
"They also smell bad. At least I didn't inherit that problem."
"Well, that's certainly debatable...."

     I've reached that empty nest stage in life where I should be collecting cats so that everyone can accuse me of being a cat lady....but instead, I hoard pugs. Right now I have three, and I'd have a lot more if my husband didn't keep deleting my emails from the pug rescue website. Those smooshie noses and big ol' bug eyes get me every time. The pug head tilt is my undoing!


     The three dogs I have are all quite distinctive, and I spoil them rotten because they're my fur babies and they deserve the best! My oldest (and first) pug was found in the streets of Miami, orphaned by his family. It didn't take me long to figure out why---Brewski has a bladder valve that I swear is constantly open. Doesn't matter if he's outside or inside; every tree and every sofa leg is fair game to him. He wears doggy diapers, but sometimes they spring a leak. Needless to say, I spend a lot on carpet cleaners. But he has a gentle soul and loves nothing more than to have his lower back scratched while we're on the couch together, binge watching Netflix. Yes, Brewski loves watching The Crown.

     My second pug was also found wandering the city streets alone when a dog rescue group saved her from the pug-thug life. Savi is my diva princess; the Kardashian of pugs. Doggy tiaras were invented for girls like her. If it's raining outside, she refuses to get her delicate paws wet and would much rather take a dump on my expensive carpet. She also hoards 2/3rds of the bed at night and snores like a freight train. Did I mention that she prefers satin sheets? Savi is my spirit animal; a spoiled girl who values her naps and expects to be hand-fed filet mignon. But she is also an affectionate girl who sits on my lap and stares at me with adoration in her eyes as if I am a human pork chop.


     My youngest pug is the first dog I ever bought as a puppy from a breeder. If the Energizer Bunny and the Tasmanian Devil ever mated, Yoda would be the result. He just turned two, but he's a "late maturing puppy." There is no such thing as boundaries for this pug; he has no problem sitting on your face, biting your ears or licking your nostrils until you pay attention to him. If you don't like getting a doggy facial, I advise you to pick up the nasty wet sock he drops in your lap and play a rousing game of tug-of-war. Sometimes I wonder if the organic dog food I give him is laced with caffeine. He runs around the room, scaling the couches and coffee table at speeds that even Mario Andretti would envy.

     The thing about Yoda is that he likes to CHEW.....like, EVERYTHING. He whittled my wooden barstool legs down to toothpicks and turned his doggy bed into a loose pile of fluffy cotton. But I found a way to beat him at his own game by purchasing a special dog bed that is chew-proof. Same goes for his toys. He needed something that would last, and I'm relieved that I found indestructible  dog toys to keep him busy so that I don't have to come home to a sofa that looks like it has been put through a Chipper Shredder. I could never get angry at him, though. All he has to do is flash those big brown eyes at me and I melt.

     This is my life with pugs, and I wouldn't have it any other way. There's always room for more....just don't tell my husband....

   

     I once worried about losing precious heirlooms and important documents until I heard about lockboxes. I've taken extra security measures since then to ensure that the items I hold dear will remain safe. What about you? Have you taken these steps to protect your own belongings?

     Today on the blog I have Will Bail, a freelance link-builder and web designer who is here to share the importance of owning a lockbox, which is especially advantageous for seniors who often forget where they've stored important items.
                               Lockbox: Why Do Seniors Need One?