COME OUT OF THE CLOSET GENTLE READERS

YOU! Yes, I mean You, Gentle Reader, and You, and You, and You,

Quit pretending you don't read me. You hide in the closet with your laptop, snickering or shedding a few tears as you read my posts, but you don't sign up to be a follower.

And I know you are out there reading me. I know it because my dashboard has a stats page, so I happen to know I have readers all over the world. I have readers in frickin' Latvia, and I don't even know where Latvia is (please forgive me Latvians; I did not learn geography in school).

It's time to come out of the closet and be a follower.

Directly opposite the current post, which for the next 24 hours or so will be this one, on the right side of the page is a link that says FOLLOW. Click on it and sign up to follow, I'm begging you.

If I get a gaggle of you, Gentle Readers, perhaps someone will actually put an ad on my message center and I could supplement my meager fixed income with it. Take pity on a poor old broken-backed dumped first wife and be a follower.

I shall lead without hesitation and with infinities of love. I welcome ridiculous and nonsensical comments on my posts. Furthermore, if you are a poster yourself, then please let me know and I shall follow you in return.

Thank you for tolerating this tirade, Gentle Readers. Plus, we welcome one fellow who has just come out of the closet: Mr. G. So, thank you Mr. G.

Infinities of love,

Lola

LOST IN AUSTEN

Gentle Readers,

The last few days have been difficult, to be sure. I have felt low in spirits, a lowness no doubt exacerbated by my drunkenness and debauchery.

However, I'm feeling a bit better because I've started to watch a British mini-series called Lost In Austen, and we're talkin' Jane Austen, not Austin, Texas, which is a lovely place though. Oh, the hours I could spend at the LBJ Library and Museum. I'm really quite fond of presidential libraries - except Hoobert Heever's. His is pretty darn boring.

Anyway, this mini-series is a hoot so far. I'm about 45 minutes in to it, so I'm sure I'll let you know more about it. I suspect it will end up receiving the Lola Seal of Approval.

Here's a little taste of Lost in Austen:



Mr. Bingley: [after Amanda sings 'Downtown'] Brava, Miss Price! And whenever life is gettin' me down, I shall be sure to go 'downtown'. Eh, Darcy?
Mr. Darcy: With alacrity.



Mr. Wickham: Miss Price, I fear that your life with Mr. Collins may be short of gaeity. If you find yourself nonplussed by the anticipated pleasures of married life, call upon me and I shall redress the deficit.
Amanda Price: Full marks for trying, George, but I wouldn't have my deficit redressed by you if you were the last man on earth.




Mr. Bingley: Damn you! Damn you and damn everyone who won't put a light in his window and stay up all night damning you!




But, Gentle Readers, if you have made the nearly fatal error of never reading Pride and Prejudice, then the moment has arrived. Do not wait another second. It is delicious and delightful and that's why it can inspire Lost in Austen and the lovely, lovely A&E classic mini-series with the lovely, lovely Colin Firth.

I think Jane Austen one of the most, if not the most, clever writers ever.

Infinities of love,

Lola

GONE BUT ALWAYS LOVED

I'll just say it: Robin is gone, but she didn't die, at least not yet as far as I know.

Saturday evening somehow she and Scout the black Lab mix got into a dispute over biscuits even though everybody had a biscuit. I don't know how it started or who started it. Harper had wisely run out to the deck with his biscuit to chomp away.

It took quite a bit of work to separate Robin and Scout. I sprayed them with water and smacked them with a pan and screamed and finally they stopped. I was quite shocked by their behavior. Robin seemed to have gotten the worst of it but had an "I don't care - bring it on" attitude.

Everything seemed fine and then about an hour later I was working at the computer and Robin suddenly took umbrage at Scout's presence and attacked the hell out of him. She chased him under the desk and held onto his ear and wouldn't let go. I received quite a scratch and bruise on my hand during the battle.

I called my son and he offered to come over and get Robin. I panted, No, I'll put Scout in the bedroom for a while and everyone, including me, will calm down and we'll be fine.

So they were in separate rooms for quite some time and then they went out before bed and everything was fine. Then we went in the bedroom to go to bed and Robin attacked Scout next to the bed and cornered him against a wardrobe while she bit the hell out of him.

Distracting her and grabbing her and doing anything with her was extremely difficult, but eventually I got her out of the room. I called my son and said, I'm sorry. You have to come and get her.

We sat together in the living room, blood from her mouth dripping onto the area rug, and waited the few minutes until he arrived.

He took her with him and I don't think she can come back here. Perhaps she'll have to be euthanized, which would have happened eventually anyway because of the cancer.

It was very shocking and upsetting and I'm still upset and also concerned for Scout, who was limping last night and not acting like himself. This morning he seemed fine and danced for his breakfast and I think we're back to normal.

I just wish I knew what went wrong with this good, sweet girl whose only flaw was escaping under the house from time to time. Oh, and sleeping in the middle of my bed, if you consider that a flaw.

I loved her, and she disappeared as quickly as she appeared.

And like Forrest, Forrest Gump, That's all I have to say about Vietnam.

I HATE IT WHEN THIS HAPPENS

Gentle Readers,

Do you ever order a movie from Netflix and sit down to watch it and realize within the first five, or even two minutes that you've seen it before?

I have done this twice in the past month, and I am quite annoyed with myself.

The first time it worked out fine though. I got this movie called The Family Man, starring Nicolas Cage, and then realized I had seen it on TV last Christmas.

I didn't think much of it on television, but uncut as a movie, I quite liked it. The uncut version includes Tea Leoni dancing around naked in the shower, but you just see her through the door, which is not clear glass. However, I think a naked dancing Tea is a thing to be admired.

But now I have 84 Charing Cross Road, starring Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins. This movie is fairly old and I realized when I read the description on the little envelope the movie comes in, Ah yes, I saw this years ago before there was a Netflix.

I recall that this movie was quite good, so I'll probably enjoy it again; but I annoy myself with my inability to remember all the movies I've seen. Instead of watching somewhat enjoyable movies again I should move onward ever onward and always watch something new.

Well, back to 84 Charing Cross Road, which appears to be based on a book (I did not know that, so I have learned something new. Plus, I now watch movies with the subtitles because I got sick of not being able to understand what the characters say. I am a victim of old age so DVDs from Netflix are definitely an improvement over the old tapes or actually, gasp!, watching on TV).

Lola

OUTSOURCING

People of India,

You are really lovely. I see two doctors, both of whom are from India. They are very good. Many Indians speaks better English than the people of the United States.

But too many customer service jobs are being outsourced to India, and whether you get to speak to someone whose English is comprehensible is a hit or miss proposition.

Not long ago, I had occasion to call my satellite television provider about a little problem - let's give them a name for the heck of it and call them directv. I spoke with a woman who seemed quite nice and friendly, but I understood very little of what she said. She offered me a $5 rebate for three months because I had been a "directv" customer for a year and was continuing my service.

But when I hung up, I said to my Favorite Young Man, I understood about 10% of what she said. For all I know I have signed up for all their premium services (I'm a basic kinda customer; let's keep the price down).

Today I received my "directv statement" and guess what? I had been charged for a month's service of Starz, plus a partial month's service. The rebate was for $5 off on three months of Starz. It's entirely possible that the customer service rep used the name Starz when I spoke with her, but I certainly never heard it or understood it.

And Starz is too expensive for me. I can't have another $12.99 added to my bill. I don't need that much television anyway.

So today I called directv (I'm tired of playing with the quotation marks; it's not funny anymore) and I spoke with another woman I barely understood. First, I needed to change my name on the account. That took forever and involved putting me on hold numerous times.

I had to spell my last name, which consists of all of five letters, at least 10 times.

Finally, we got down to the serious business: the extra charges on the bill.

She had to put me on hold so I could be transferred to someone else. I waited and waited and finally got someone who said she would remove the Starz package and credit me with $7.99.

No, no, no, I said.

But, she said, it's notated here that you were educated that you were getting the Starz package.

No, no, no, I said. Take off all the charges.

But, she said, it's notated here that you were educated that you were getting the Starz package.

No, I wasn't, I replied. Let me talk to your supervisor please.

I'll have to put you on hold, she said.

Of course, I said.

She actually came back on the line after only a few more minutes and said her supervisor had told her she could remove all the charges.

Victory!

But I had been on the phone for about 45 minutes. Now I'm so tired and I have a headache.

The next time I sign up for a service, among my questions will be the following, and if no one can answer them, then forget it:

1. Where are you customer service representatives? Are they native speakers of English?
2. What is the average wait time to reach a customer service rep and the average time to have a problem resolved?

I don't think these are unfair questions. And I'm also tired of being told to go to Web sites to resolve my problem, where I almost always see a list of FAQs, none of which have anything to do with my needs, and if I use Live Chat I'm back to talking to someone in writing who has a minimal understanding of English and seldom solves my problem (in fact, I think the only time a Live Chat person answered my question was on Macy's.com and the person seemed to have an excellent understanding of English), or I can send an email that will almost always be ignored, or if I receive a reply, the answer seldom makes sense.

See why I'm so tired?

And it's not notated. It's noted.

Just love tonight,

Lola

MY KATHY

She was a single parent for a long time so she knows how to be careful with a dollar, yet she's unflinchingly generous.

She has firm beliefs, yet she listens to other opinions.

She is conservative, yet she's liberal.

She speaks her mind, yet she does not lecture.

She loves kitties, yet she's sweet to dogs.

She is serious, yet she makes me laugh so hard I nearly fall out of my chair and lose the ability to speak.

She plays instruments as if she is an angel, yet she is an earth-bound creature.

She is strict, yet she is patient.

She is tough, yet she can be hurt.

She makes learning fun, yet the fun never gets in the way of the learning.

She suffers pain of her own, yet she always cheers me up.

She is extremely busy, yet she always has time.

She is a godly woman, yet she is not a prude.

She is a person of rare devotion, both to God and her friends.

She is a person of rare tolerance.

She has no other gods before our God.

She loves her children.

She honors her parents.

She would not kill or injure, in deed or with words.

If she utters a falsehood, it is to save someone else's feelings, not to protect herself.



Why has God given me this amazing person as my friend of more than 25 years? What did I ever do to deserve this? Nothing, of course, just as I have done nothing to deserve the death of Jesus on the cross for me.

She is a little older than I am - O.K. she is several years older than I am, and I fear He will take her before me.

But I know that in His goodness, that if He takes her first, He will take a bit of me and send me with her because He knows, in all His glory and enlightenment and omnipotence, that I cannot be left alone on Earth without her. She is my partner in crime, yet she is my partner in all that is good and holy.

ESCAPE

Gentle Readers,

Yesterday the nice lady next door, who quite often helps me with escaped dogs, rang the doorbell and I asked Do I have a dog out? She said No, two, the black one and the white one. (Ebony and ivory live together in perfect harmony. Side by side on my piano keyboard, oh Lord why is this song so dumb?)

So Robin found another escape route, but I was pretty surprised that Scout had followed. He's such a mama's baby.

But just then Scout came running up behind me, so obviously he had changed his mind and come back through the escape route and through the open back door, big smile on his face.

And then Robin came running up to the front door with her big dopey grin on her face.

So the nice lady next door and I went out back to see where they had gotten out because I have worked so hard to prevent escapes.

And there it was: A little tiny space between the house and the deck. Robin had knocked over the cinder block that was in front of it after pushing a garbage can out of her way. Nice lady next door was quite amazed that Robin had gotten through this tiny space. I said, She's the incredible shrinking dog. When Robin wants out, Robin gets out.

Nice lady next door went home and I looked at the little space and thought, Mama's back just hurts too much after all the hoopla last week with fixing another escape route and having Harper take off and get an hour away. I cannot carry a bag of quikrete back here to fix this. So I put the cinder block back in place and wedged a smaller one in next to it and put a metal tub that was in the yard (I think the people who used to live here were into gardening and they used it as a planter) in front of the cinder blocks and put the garbage can in the metal tub.

Now I knew that Robin could move all of this quite easily if she chose to do so, but I hoped that she would make enough noise with the rattly lightweight metal tub while removing it that I would know what she was doing and could give her a stern talking to.

So after a little while I heard a rattly noise near the back door. There was Robin standing in the metal tub.

I descended the steps from the deck and hauled her out and smacked her on the butt and shouted NO.

I swear to God she looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

And I knew what I was.

I was a piece of shit who would hit a helpless dog when just pulling her away and talking to her would have sufficed.

And I wasn't a great big stinking piece of Thoreau shit just waiting for some smart-assed rich kid to step in me. No, not me. I was a little tiny miserable piece of shit that had been ground into the mud by someone's scruffy boot and a cigarette had probably been put out on me besides.

Robin was pretty quiet the rest of the day and she stuck close to me. I gave her lots of pats and kisses and told her what a good girl she was when she stayed away from the escape route.

She's already tried to check out the area this morning - twice. The first time I was on the phone and I pointed at her and she backed away immediately. The second time I said NO and she moved away immediately.

At the moment, she's resting on the floor, next to my desk, oh so quiet. I know she's not really asleep because she's not snoring.

As soon as my back feels better, I'll fix this escape route and we'll be o.k. for a while until Robin find another spot.

Robin, it looks like it's you and me to the end baby.

Infinities of love,

Lola