late bloomer

Stories, musings, and pictures… a little bit late.

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2 Mysteries Solved

Mystery #1:  What kind of chicken is Bernice anyway?

Answer: Rhode Island Red. Thanks, Aunt Paula for sharing that knowledge.

Mystery #2:  What kind of person is that dog-walkin’ lady anyway?

Answer: I’ll let you decide for yourself…

Last Thursday evening I was out for a jog and crossed paths with that lady and her dog again. As I was approaching them my mind started to race with this questions: Do I say something? Do I smile? Do I even look over there?

I decided to keep my eyes straight forward.

The dog, once again, was pulling on the leash trying to get over to me. He wasn’t going to fool me twice so I just kept going. Dog continued to pull and his lady said loudly, for my benefit,  “Now stop it,  she’ll call animal control.”

I ran a few more steps processing what she had just said then turned my head in their direction and shouted: I WAS BIT!

and I. WAS. LIVID.

After giving her the benefit of the doubt that she was too upset or embarrased to say anything at the time of the attack…and then to hear that…grr.

Obviously people think I am easily intimidated. I have done some brainstorming about how to change this perception, and this is what I have come up with.

What do you think? Nice, right?


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On this day in 19…

…Suzanne Laura Bitter was born. You may know her as Suzie Churchill. Or, you may not know her at all. Lucky for you (and me) I do.

She is a mother of 2, A sister of 3, Nana for 2 grandchildren and 2 grandpuppies.
She has a special way with plants, animals, and children.
Her gardens are beautiful, animals spoiled and children loved.

 She is a veteran of the United States Air Force.
She used to lead Girl Scout Troops.
She once saw Paul Newman in a grocery store.
And NOT on food packaging.

She is ageless and beautiful.
She is my mom.

Happy Birthday, Mom


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The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime

Have you ever read that book? I really enjoyed it. My mom recommended it to me. But, this really isn’t a book review.

Instead this is a first hand account of what happened to me Monday night.

I was on my way out of the neighborhood for a short jog when I saw a lady and her dog approaching. Her medium sized, black dog was pulling eagerly at his leash. I thought I would give the lady a break and let the dog, Gideon, meet me  for the N’th time, figuring he would ease up once his curiosity was satisfied. I slowed my relaxed jog to a walk and crossed the road. With my left hand down by my side I let the dog sniff my hand. His owner told him not to jump, and he was mostly mindful. After he was done sniffing the back of my hand, I started to give him a pat on the head and right as I told him he was a good dog – CHOMP!

The pain wasn’t enough to cry, but it sure startled me. I turned right around and walked calmly back across the road, which happened to be my mom’s driveway. I felt like a little kid. My bottom lip was probably sticking out pretty far when I made my way up the steps to her door. “Gideon just bit me. Can I have some peroxide?”

As I made my way into her house, my mom’s dog, Rosie made her way out. She was on a mission. Rosie ran to the edge of her yard and gave the meanest barking and growling I have ever heard her give. Now that’s a good dog!  Especially considering she is half the size of Gideon.

My mom called 911 and informed the dispatcher that though this wasn’t an emergency, she wanted to report that her “…daughter, ADULT daughter…” just got bit by a dog.

I’m going to brag here for a sec – I went for my jog while waiting for the Animal Control Officer. I was only able to give the officer the name of the dog and the approximate address of their home. Kudos to the Knoxville Police Department Animal Control for their swift work and only with partial information. They got back to me in less than a day.

I feel like I am leaving something out. Maybe what Gideon’s person had to say… No, that can’t be it because she said nothing to me. Nothing. Not “I’m sorry my dog bit you.” Not “Are you alright?” Not “You probably shouldn’t pet him today.” Nothing.

I am really not that upset with Gideon. After all, he is an animal and they have different ways of expressing themselves. I put some blame on myself because I should know better. My feelings toward lady whose name I do not know: unimpressed. As in Kayla Maroney level of unimpressed. However, I will wait to finalize my judgement until the next time I see her, giver her a chance at redemption.


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The Effects of Chocolate on Men and Boys: A Study

One evening last week Aaron was trying to find something to eat. Specifically, something chocolate to eat. Unfortunately we were running low on cookies and the like. Aaron dealt with this in his own special way. He turned to me and *whined.

Later that weekend I was hanging out with Leroy and his family. After lunch and some conversation we helped ourselves to some pound cake and chocolate ice cream. Leroy’s little boy was pretty happy about the situation. Until his bowl was empty. It seemed like the very moment he didn’t have enough to fill a spoon the tears started.

It really doesn’t get any easier to be without chocolate when you really want chocolate. You just get better coping skills.

*This whining was delivered comically and with love. I appreciate both the truth and humor of it.

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An Unecessary Organ

One of my friends is getting her gall bladder removed today. I would probably be super worried about her if I hadn’t had the same surgery a few years ago. (Not to say I’m not thinking of her, I am just not obsessively worrying.) Apparently, if you are going to be operated on for the first time, having your gall bladder removed is the way to go.

I don’t remember much about the actual surgery that took place on my innards, but I do remember the pain that got me there in the first place. I had experienced a couple episodes of discomfort-bordering-bad pain in my chest which I originally chalked up to gas pains. These probably occurred months apart.

Then one Friday night, after dining on homemade meatball subs with Aaron, my chest started to hurt. BAD. I tried some GAS-X. Nothing. Tried “going”. Nothing. In fact, the pain was increasing.

Aaron asked if we needed to go the hospital and I eventually said yes. (I had a heart condition when I was born so whenever something funny goes on in that area of my anatomy I freak out just a little on the inside and pretend to be tough on the outside.) But first, I needed to change my clothes.

This perplexed Aaron then, and I believe still perplexes him now. Why did I need to change my clothes? For starters, I was in my pajamas already. It was Friday night before 9 and I had been ready for bed for hours.  Also, they judge you at the ER. Sure its supposed to be triage, but even ER admissions judge by the covers.

I quickly changed back into what I wore to work that day and we headed calmly to the hospital. Too calmly. I remember the traffic being light enough that we could have run a few red lights on the way to the ER and been fine. This is where I introduce a double standard into the evening and wonder why Aaron isn’t violating any traffic laws while his wife might be having a heart attack for Pete’s sake! Jammies. Red Lights. Jammies. Red Lights… tough call.

Turns out chest pains carry a lot of clout as far as getting service at the ER. I had the best nurse. Might have had a crush on him during my middle of the night rendesvous. Before our adventure was over I had been treated to an ineffective “GI cocktail” and a round of ultrasounds. If I have ever been writhing in pain, this night was the night. There was no comfortable position.

Eventually the pain subsided and the shifts changed at the hospital. By the time I was comfortable again we were exhausted and ready to go home. I think we made it back around 3 am. Gall bladder still in tact. It wasn’t taken out for another month or so. Fortunately I never had another attack.

Best wishes, Amanda!


Facebook: A Necessary Evil

Back before Christmas I presented myself with a little challenge: stop looking at Facebook.



So there.

Oh no! It must be the mom jeans. My apologies.

Really, it was because I was getting really aggravated at people and their shenanigans when it was optional for me to even look at their shenanigans in the first place. (It is similar to why I don’t watch the news. I rarely learn anything valuable and most of the time it just irritates me.)

I didn’t delete my account. But as far as I know, that isn’t really possible. It will always be there, just waiting for you to break and come back to stalk people so you can judge them. I am NOT ALONE here.

My first excuse to get back on was to check up on some friends that are preggers. Sure, it is still stalking, but in a non- judegmental-I-wish-the-best-for-you kind of way. So that was ok, I allowed myself that much. Then gradually I started checking in on people that I had hidden.

WHY would I DO THIS to myself? I can only pretend that I was going to be brazen enough to have a “What’s on your mind?” Status Update Intervention. For example: “Quit Whining, those aren’t actually problems.” or “Stop enabling the pity party, they chose that lifestyle, worked hard for it even.” Alas I Defriended. GASP!

I never really liked that FB used the word friend anyway. For me, if we are friends, we’ll know what is going on with each other without logging in to a mostly public space. Way to cheapen “friend” FB. Why don’t we just start throwing around words like Love and Hate…

Anyway, since I have defriended GASP! I have been able to utilize Facebook to reconnect with some runner buddies without being distracted. This is where the necessary part comes in. So many people that I know use Facebook to make plans and share victories, I was really missing out. Once I realized that this social medium didn’t limit me to being social through a monitor, it could actually aid in being social in person, I have been having more fun (and maybe burning more calories).

What are your thoughts? Are you pro Facebook? OMG OMG are we ‘Friends’?  (That last part was written in character… maybe one day she’ll be introduced via video.)