Bodacious Boomer

I admit it. We took our kids to Sea World to see Shamu about 15 years ago during spring break.  Sea World hadn’t been open very long In San Antonio and everybody in Texas couldn’t wait to go. We thought it was great- at the time. Later that same summer, we learned what we did was wrong, very wrong. In my defense, we didn’t know any better. (However, that never really gets anybody off on Law and Order does it)?

We laughed, and oohed and aahed along with everybody else in the crowd, naively assuming that the lives of their animal performers were  great. I did think about the confinement issue. However, I justified that in my mind by thinking that they really didn’t have to do that much everyday and they only worked 6 months a year. They had major medical; not to mention no more worries about being attacked in the wild or having to forage for food.

A few months later we took to the kids to Corpus Christi, a resort town located down the Texas coast about 225 miles from Houston. Being raised by two avid (fisherpeople)?, Corpus was where we went every summer, two or three times. I wanted our kids to see the town and some of the places that I so enjoyed growing up. While checking into the hotel I saw a brochure that had dolphins on it. It was for a small little business called the Dolphin Connection. For $15, you could go out in a small boat into Corpus Christi bay and interact with wild dolphins, so it said. I called and booked our trip for our last day of vacation.

The next few days were fun, a little too much sun and some so-so food; but the kids had a good time. They even saw the hotel pool where I learned to swim. I was waiting for the last day. When we got to Ingleside, a tiny little community right by Corpus, we met Erv Strong and his wife and Sonja AKA The Dolphin Connection. Weather permitting, Erv takes a maximum of 6 people at a time, out to see the dolphins in the bay. I think now he charges $25. This trip is so worth it.

It is like nothing you could imagine. These wild dolphins come up to the boat to interact with you because they want to, not because it’s their job or because they get fed. You can dangle your feet in the water and they come right up to you. If you love dolphins and whales please go to the link and check out the entire website. You’ll learn a lot and probably never go to Sea World again.Here’s a link to just one page of their blog.

I’m not against Sea World. They rescue and rehab all kinds of marine life. That’s just great. However, after listening to Erv, who has been with dolphins for almost 30 years, you’ll never again want to see a captive dolphin or whale show. I’ll probably never again get to be as close to an orca as I was at Sea World. I may never even get to see one on a whale watching tour; but that’s OK. I’d rather see them on Animal Planet or the Discovery than ever see a captive dolphin or whale again.

Here’s an excerpt from one of the links on their site. I heard this info for the first time while out on a trip with Erv. Ric O’Barry, who captured and trained the dolphins that played “Flipper” said, “Flipper was the best and worst thing that ever happened to dolphins.
On one hand it made the masses aware of them, and on the other, it created an image of them that made people desire to have, hold and be with them.
What turned me around on the captivity issue was when Flipper die in my arms inside a cold, chlorinated, steel tank at Miami Sea Aquarium.
I must tell you. I believe it was suicide.”

If you decide to go, please tell him that you heard about him from the Bodacious Boomer. We gone many times over the years and enjoyed it every time. Last time it was just Doug and I.

FYI- They have life jackets for your little ones; and it’s usually better when the water gets a little warmer.

Wednesday I called Evelyn and told her that I’d been to the doctor. We talked about my appointment for a bit and then I said “It’s time”. She let one sigh, and then another. Then she said “I knew this was coming”, resolutely. (She knew what was coming next). She didn’t want to hear it. “It’s been too long you know”, I said.  “I know, I know”, she said. “Tomorrow, then?” “Allright, allright. I’ll pick you up at 8am”.

So Thursday morning at 8:30 am, she came to get me with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. I said “Good morning”; and she said “Where?” And what was making my normally cheery friend surly? We not only started back at the gym yesterday; we also started eating healthy. I had an egg white omelette after the gym. She had a waffle, but only half. I know I’m finally back on track because although there’s a cupcake calling to me from the kitchen counter at this moment, I’m holding fast.

I thought I’d take the fitness test on the treadmill. I entered all my info and the belt started. I was in the warm-up cruising at 3mph. I thought everything was going pretty well until… the front of the machine raised dramatically and the speed increased to 4.5 mph.; 4.5 mph is no longer a brisk walk. It’s a jog, at least for me. For the first couple of minutes I did OK, although it sounded like a herd of elephants were running with me. After the first two minutes though, I decided that the benefit to my heart wasn’t worth the damage to my ta-tas. They hadn’t bounced that much in years. It was a bad thing. I still haven’t taken my bra off. (I’m almost afraid to). I’ve never found a bra that prevents bounce if you’re DDD.

I thought I'd aim for this look

Anyway, I think I’ll just let that cupcake  sit there and watch as it slowly petrifies. (I think it’ll petrify before it turns moldy). It’s really strange; once I’m being really good, nothing seems to tempt me. Although I’m keeping watch for bad Michele. (I really don’t need her showing up right now). She tends to pop in a lot, especially when she’s not wanted. If you want to read more about her exploits, just do a search for her at bodaciousboomer.com.

Don’t you just love it when someone you love gives you an unexpected present? I know I do. I was in the backyard yesterday with our pack when Molly, our black lab, AKA Molly the Bull, came running over to me. Usually Molly wants to give me one of her toys. I say “Drop” and she drops it in my hand. For some reason for which I don’t understand but am forever grateful, yesterday I told Molly to “Drop” when she was still about three feet away from me. I thought she had brought one of the many plush toys which the girls have eviscerated, but still love to play with. I leaned over to pick it up and immediately started yelling for Doug. After the 4th yell, he made it out from the east wing of our house. (Like our house is that big).

I stood there pointing to what I thought had been a chewed up toy. It was chewed up all right, but it was NOT a toy. It was half a opossum, the front half. Prior to moving to this house I’d only seen one opossum my whole life. It was alive and hanging in my MIL’s garage. Since we moved to this house, almost three years ago, now my opossum sightings are well into double digits for sure; however, they’re all dead. Our house backs up to a bayou. (I guess that’s where they’re all coming from). One of my first postings was about our opossum problem. A couple of these critters have been over 20 lbs. They are huge!- and scary looking. I’m beginning to wonder if the bayou behind our house has toxic waste. They’re getting so big they’re really starting to freak out Nate, Brett, and Doug too.

We don’t leave food out. I don’t know why they keep coming into our yard. Wouldn’t you think they’d catch on? “Hey Steve, don’t go over there, Joe did the other day and he didn’t come back”. I don’t mean to sound callus about this. I absolutely love animals; but I don’t know what else to do. I read that we could keep a strobe light going; that opossums don’t like them. However, I don’t believe I’d be very popular with the neighbors. Since the dogs go in and out the dog door, if we left a human trap out and by chance caught one, one of our pack would hurt themselves on the wire trap trying to get to it.

Years ago, our Siberian Husky, Kiwi was nice enough to bring me a squirrel head. The perfect gift for the mom who has everything, you know. Brett took it and was going to put it under his sister’s pillow. Luckily Doug got it away from him before he could do it. Brotherly love- what a beautiful thing.

I went to the Dr. yesterday. Nothing was really wrong. I just hadn’t been since last June and it was that time. I got on a scale yesterday for the first time in months. I was half expecting for the scale to start to smoke or scream “Get off! Get off now!” However it wasn’t as bad as I ‘d feared. In the last 4 months I gained about 6 lbs. I figured that wasn’t too bad since in that time: 1. My mom got sick and died 2. We had Halloween, Thanksgiving, my BD,  Christmas and New Years and Valentine’s Day 3. We’ve taken a beating financially. I’m thinking that on the old stress-ometer of life mine is registering right on up there these days.

The nurse greeted me and asked how I was doing? I told her I wished I could say I was 20 and was just popping in to get my birth control pills- no aches, no pains, no twinges; but alas, that was not possible. Unfortunately, I fear I’m starting to sound like those little old ladies who dotter into the doctor and complain that everything but their eyelashes hurt.  Or maybe I sound more like Mr. Richard Fader made famous by Roseann Roseanna Danna.

When I got on the scale at his office, I looked at the nurse and said  “You’re going to take 2 lbs. off for shoes and clothes aren’t you?” (Like that’s really going to make a difference- please). At least she was considerate enough to go behind closed doors before she broke out laughing.

I’ve had the same young doctor for years now. He is such a sweetie. I even talk to him by email if I just need something called out. He looked at me today and could tell I wasn’t the happiest of campers. He listened patiently as I rattled off my litany of complaints. I even had it all written down so I wouldn’t forget one! That was a first for me and not one I was especially thrilled about. By the time I left there today I’d had my right shoulder x-rayed (The one damaged from all the face painting)- also an EKG- I’ve had some fibrillation in the past couple of weeks. (I’m blaming Doug for that). There’s also an MRI scheduled for my left knee. (I can trip over a grain a sand- a mountain goat I am not). At any rate, within a month or so we’ll know just how well everything works. It’s sounds like a lot of problems, but it has been almost a year after all.

I almost forgot- I’m getting my eyes checked out as well. There’s a nasty rumor spreading about that I don’t see distances well enough to drive. Well, we’ll see about that. Actually, it’s just a ploy of mine to be driven about. If  I could just get Doug would wear that little black cap I bought him…

In the meantime I decided I’d try some therapy- mind wise- that is. So, starting next month, March 11th to be exact, I’m seeing a “feesachiatrist” as Ricky Ricardo used to say. I hope he has a big notebook and a comfy couch. I think it will be should be verrry interesting.

Gizmo the Brave, but not too smart

I’ve got a Dr.’s appointment this morning. It is cold and wet outside. I’d about rather get another root canal than go out and drive around in all this mess today then wait in the “waiting room”. Is it an unwritten rule that every magazine in that little room has to be at least 3 years old? The last magazine I read in a waiting room had Britney awaiting the birth of her 2nd baby. Whatever, I’ve got to go. Besides the root canal last week did kinda suck, especially afterward. Oh well, it’s a good thing to get the checkup behind me anyway I guess.

I saw this absolutely ginormous great Dane named George on the Oprah show yesterday.  He weighs 245 lbs and sleeps on his own queen sized bed. He looks like such a sweetie.

Here’s a clip of George and the man who loves him. You know, if my Gizmo met George he’d try to pick a fight. Thank God the big guys are usually gentle giants and are dismissive of the crazy acting little guys.

I’ve always wanted to have a really huge dog. But I know the biggest breeds usually have much shorter life spans; and when I lose a dog, it’s a very, very bad thing for me indeed. From the time I was very little my mom told me the story of the rainbow bridge, where all your loved pets go after they die to wait for you. (That story has helped to get me through some really dark days.) I fully expect by the time I get to that bridge, I’m going to look like Caesar Milan, the dog whisperer with a whole pack o’ pooches waiting for me. I’m just hoping that when everybody is up there they all get along; some of my pups have had a surplus of “self-confidence” let’s say.