Doe a deer, a female deer... ok you know the rest

Ok, this is now two posts in a row that I’m writing about the wildlife in my backyard. I’ve been a bit fixated on what’s happening in the backyard with all the birds, squirrels, and other critter types. It’s something I can stare at and it helps calm me, kinda like meditating without having to find someplace quiet, which just doesn’t happen around here unless the mad spaniel is out with the DH. This week it’s about the solitary doe who’s been roaming my suburb neighborhood. I kinda feel bad for her being so alone (I can relate) but she seems to like our furry kids so maybe she’s made friends with others, too.

She appears to be fascinated with the mad spaniel. Last week Penny was racing back and forth along one side of the chain link fence and the doe, I call her Betty was watching. The name Betty is probably because the local PBS has been running Simon and Garfunkel’s concert in Central Park all summer. Something else that can calm me until all that pledge stuff starts. I’m like all calm and drowsy and the next think you know there’s someone hawking cds and asking for money, so thanks PBS for never running it without pledge breaks. The name Betty is from that Paul Simon song, You can call me Al, which has been stuck in my head and is making it crazier (which isn’t something good). I know... now I passed on the song worm ...  you’re welcome.

So Betty slowly walks over to the fence staring at the mad spaniel like she’s the most interesting thing around. Maybe to a deer she was or maybe she just couldn’t believe how insane this dog must be to zoom back and forth and not bark. I came outside with Matty and she still just stood there staring at all of us. The next day the DH was by the shed in the backyard when he looked over at the compost pile and there was Betty not more than a yard away from him going thru the corn husks I tossed there the night before. She’s way too tame.

It’s not just Penny and the DH that Betty gets up close with. I’ve actually seen her touch noses with the cat, weird huh?! Made me wish I had a cell phone on me to get a quick pic. I don’t cause I hate all phones (not kidding, I really do and it’s not because of all the annoying sales calls and robo calls, well maybe a little it is). Matty doesn’t seem to be interested in her at all. He stares but it’s like , hey it’s no big deal it’s just some weird huge dog thing.

Betty’s looking a whole lot healthier now than when she first showed up back in the spring. Guess living off my garden and probably every other one in the area has helped fatten her up. I find odd that she eats the bean leaves and vines but doesn’t seem to touch the ones with the green beans hanging from them. She does eat my pepper plants, even the hot ones.

  The DHand I have a bet on if she will stick around this winter. I say if she keeps walking down the road a car will come around the blind corner by our yard and we’ll find one very dead deer on the hillside. He thinks she’ll end up in some one’s freezer because we live on the border of a township that allows hunting. But maybe she’ll take notice that hunting season is approaching (and it ain’t Elmer Fudd hunting wabbits she has to worry about) and she’ll stay on our side of the township line and find herself a nice buck because I really don’t think Andy is her type.

A groundhog named Jill ... or maybe Jack

Here’s a short funny story. Oh, I know I do tend to write very long posts but this one is short, promise. At least it is for me.

I was out feeding the birds and refilling the birdbaths (gotta keep clean water in them to keep away the mosquitoes!). After doing the water I walked back to the house not realizing I forgot the small bucket I use to hold the containers of birdseed. Later I went over to look at the plants growing around one of the birdbaths and found the seed containers. Thinking it’s just one of those days when I’m way too lost in thought I took them back to the place where they should be, only to find the bucket wasn’t there either.

Worried some kid playing on the wooded lot behind our house may have taken it. It’s not hard to think that way since we’ve had a wire dog crate, rake, shovel, wood, and containers go missing, and then there’s the window broken in a truck we used to have. The lot’s big enough for paintball and kids from all over (yeah even ones who drive) used to play back there. But that’s not at all what happened to the little green bucket.

So I toodled back over and spotted the small groundhog that’s lives under our big shed duck under some stacked wood near by. That’s when I got the idea of maybe, just maybe, it could have taken it. Bending down and looking thru my legs (and VERY glad no one saw me) I spotted the bucket under the shed but not at the edge like I could have kicked it there. Oh, no, it was in almost the center!

Heading back to the house I started calling for the DH because I knew if I just got it out and then told him about our Jack or Jill he’d never believe me. He still didn’t want to believe I didn’t set it up that way ‘cause it’s just too weird, right? Lucky for me he recently bought a long handled tree trimmer with a hook on the end. It was just long enough to catch the handle of the bucket.

So I’m happy to get my bucket back but I can’t help but wonder just what did the groundhog have planned to do with it? hmmmm.......

So I went to beauty school ...

Yeah, I did go to a local beauty school during a time when my agoraphobia wasn’t so bad and managed to graduate. It wasn’t easy since my panic attacks kicked back in towards the end of getting all the hours I needed. Guess you’d say I was a medium functioning agoraphobic at the time. Me, I’d say I was a high school drop-out looking for something to do with my life because the local school district didn’t offer home schooling for years 11 & 12 (I was home schooled from 8 - 10) and my parents weren’t the types to fight the board about it. I love my parents but they were always wusses when it came to dealing with anything like that. But, I’m SO lucky ‘cause no matter how screwed up I got (& still am) they were always there for me and my Mom still is.

Bet you’re wondering just how did I manage to go to beauty school but not to regular school? If not just skip this part, go ahead I won’t get mad. I truly believed there would be less bitchiness going to school with older women than being in high school with all the queens of mean. Little did I know just how bad females of any age can be. Don’t get me wrong there were a lot of really nice people but there were also those few that are never happy unless they can be the center of attention and if that means being mean then that’s what they’ll be. I spent more than a few days in the bathroom in tears but I managed to stick it out ‘cause it was never as bad as high school.

Ok, back to the reason I’m writing about beauty school, and no I never did get my license because I became completely housebound after graduating. It was that evil yet scared part of my brain realizing I’d have to travel a lot further than I was used to and have to take a LOT of tests in a place I’d never been to. I’m not good with places I don’t know. Rotten bitch brain just went all idiotic thinking she was saving me but just messed up my life even more. Guess Pinky-Brain decided after putting in almost 2 years at school with only minor anxiety why not start having major crazy panic attacks again. For the next year the only time I went out was when The DBF (that's darling boyfriend in case you didn't know and BTW he now is the DH!) came home from the Navy and when my Mom threatened no letters or phone calls from him if I didn’t go to church with her.

I know I’m back off track again. I’m bringing up beauty school because I cut and color my own hair. I honestly don’t trust anyone else to do it. The few times I went to a salon I ended up very (no that’s not strong enough) extremely unhappy. I even left one place in tears. Take for instance the time I wanted the Meg Ryan cut. You know the one from the 1990’s, it’s sometimes called a Mom cut now, but it’s still cute. The DH keeps asking me to get it again (hmmm... do you think he may have a secret crush on Meg?) but since I have a hard time cutting the back of my hair that short I won’t, plus I really like my French braids. Anyway, the girl used hair wax for the first time and really got carried away with it. Since it was in the 90’s outside the salon I’m sure you can imagine my slowly drooping hair. Plus it took me 3 days to get it all washed out. Then there was the time I went to a salon that took drop-ins (I’m not good with appointments, way too much stress). The woman did a decent cut but since she was also doing another customer with a perm she just handed me a blow dryer and brush and said, “ Well you know how you want it”. Another stylist realized what was going on when she finished her customer and insisted on taking over. No wonder the shop went out of business if they pulled that kind of shit. Then there were the stylists who looked at the pictures I took in (I always took a lot of pics just so they’d know exactly what I wanted) and they still gave me a different and much shorter haircut. I’m truly surprised we’re not a world of long haired women wearing our hair in buns and braids.

... and here I go again. I just thought you needed some back story ... no? ... sorry, but it does explain why I do my own hair, it’s not just the panic attacks. This time I promise to get on with the reason for this post. The really real reason I’m writing about hair is because I recently colored my hair and even though I knew, I really did know there was a very good chance it would happen, my pale blonde hair picked up the orangey gold base color of the dye. Yeah, I ended up with Trump orange hair. Not a look I wanted so I washed my hair with the strongest shampoo we had and it softened the color a bit but now it was a peachy color (you know the fake peach shade not the real peach fruit color... that would be even worse). I knew I had to wait at least 6 -7 days before I could either re-color or do a peroxide shampoo in hope of removing some more of the color without damaging my hair further. After 3 days of ignoring mirrors unless the room was a bit dark the DH let me know it wasn’t orange or even peach anymore. Guess the shampoo did the trick but talk about panic attacks! I don’t take any meds for them but I do tend to self medicate with food. I gained 3 pounds in 3 days over it.

 

I still don’t like the color but instead of trying to color over it I’m just living in French braids. I did stop wearing a hat outside to hide it. It’s a true light blonde with slight golden highlights now but I won’t be playing with that color again. I know with so many fun hair colors on the market my hair wouldn’t have been seen as that bad but I’m not one to try to attract attention. Even peach hair was too much for me and gave me panic attacks. Should I tell you about the time when I was in beauty school the hair color teacher turned my bleached hair pink, purple, blue, green, and peach in various sections from hair dye? No? Yeah I’m having heart palpations just remembering it because then it all started breaking off, so let’s just say bye for now I’m heading to my bathroom closet to make sure I have the right shade of hair color for my next dye job.