Sunday, November 7, 2010

A short while back, I became aware of something I hadn’t known existed. And while watching an informative show about it, I still found it hard to believe. What am I referring to? Noodicles.

For those of you not in the know, noodicles are artificial testicles for dogs that have been castrated.

Really? Are you kidding me? Artificial dog testicles? Come on!

Back in the day, I was a veterinary technician for almost six years. I vividly recall when fake teeth, crowns and even orthodontics became available to dogs, well, for their owners to pay for. To be sure, there were extreme cases where these benefits did make the dog’s life more bearable.

But noodicles? How are those supposed to make the dog’s life better? I mean come on now, you can’t tell me that the dog actually cares one way or the other or that he will have a lower self-esteem if he doesn’t have the implants.

Watching the show from which I was enlightened, I saw how, just like at a plastic surgeon’s office, the vet brings out a board with various sized and shaped artificial dog testicles attached for the dog owner to select from.

Okay, seriously, there’s no way I’d be able to keep a straight face or take the vet seriously.

And…just for those for whom looking isn’t enough, the prospective buyer of said noodicles can hold the various sizes and shapes to feel which ones might work best or their dog.

Again, how would you do this without cracking up?

I’m a huge animal lover, dogs being at the top of my list. And there are very few things that I wouldn’t do for them to ensure a better quality of life. But noodicles? Okay, that’s where I’d draw the line.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Odd things happen to me on a regular basis. I’ve come to embrace this reality as…well…just part of what makes my life…interesting. But every once in a while, I’m privy to when strange things happen to others. And those events make me smile.

Driving home from my son’s soccer game this afternoon, I had to stop at a red light. When my green arrow indicated I could go, I didn’t for there was an ambulance, lights flashing and siren blaring, approaching the intersection. I waited for it to pass and then head up the route I was to take. Once it was clear, I made my turn and began following.

About a quarter mile up, I found it odd that the ambulance was going under the speed limit despite its lights and siren still displayed.

Shouldn’t it be in a hurry?

We continued on our way, going another half mile at this reduced speed. Up ahead was the fire station. I couldn’t help but find it a tad ironic when I noticed one of the fire trucks head out of their drive, lights flashing and siren blaring, towards us…the opposite direction of the ambulance, which had just passed the last possible street to turn on before the fire station.

Huh?

As the two got closer to one another, they slowed. So I, along with other vehicles, did the same. The fire truck pulled over to its side of the road. The ambulance did the same. So we all pulled over and waited since both emergency vehicles’ lights and sirens were still doing their thing.

Strange.

Since I was right behind the ambulance, I could see, from its side-view mirror, that the driver was looking over at the fire truck’s driver and conversing with him.

Hmmm…. Please tell me the ambulance isn’t lost.

As if reading my thoughts, both drivers pulled away from their sides of the road. The fire truck continued south while the ambulance made a U-turn to follow.

You’ve got to be kidding! The ambulance was lost.

Once both vehicles passed, I continued on a half block and then turned onto my street. But something nagged at me to look back. I did, and it was then that I noticed both the fire truck and the ambulance appeared to be lost, since they had pulled to the side of the road, lights and sirens still displayed, cars unable to pass. The drivers of each looked to be rapidly talking with one another.

Don’t they have GPS? Dispatchers who tell them where to go…and how to get there? And whatever happened to the drivers being acquainted with the area they serve?

As I completed my turn and the emergency vehicles fell out of sight, I was left to wonder if they managed to ever make it to their destination…or if they’re still parked there…at the side of the road…the blind leading the blind.

Friday, November 5, 2010

During our dinner tonight, I had the greatest fun. It began when I commented to my youngest son that I wondered how the restaurant he and I had gone to the other night had gone about making the little Lobster balls the size of peas. They had been in my pasta dish and seemed to be twice as tasty as the chunks of lobster. He said they were probably actual lobster balls.

Now, when you have a fourteen-year old son who sets himself up for this one, you just can’t let it slide. And, since words are my livelihood, I just had to go with it. So…I didn’t respond, at least not verbally—at first. Instead, I turned to look at him then raised an eyebrow, allowing what he’d implied to sink in.

It only took a few seconds for my son to realize the implications of what he’d said. And when he did, I watched his face turn a nice blush color, then a cherry red, and finally it rose to a heated crimson as he tired to stammer and stutter his way out of what he’d said. But he failed and only made matters worse when he raise up his hand and said, “I meant to say that they were probably from little lobster balls, like this,” he said creating a small circle opening between his thumb and pointer finger.

Again, I paused, waiting for these new words to sink in. My husband, sitting across from us joined in, and we indicated that it wouldn’t be nice to say that a lobster’s might be small. My son, so flustered by this point, stuttered out, “Well…they probably don’t even have any.”

By this time, despite my son being embarrassed, he was laughing hard, as were his dad and I.

Some might consider this inappropriate conversation, especially for at the dinner table. But I disagree. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but dinnertime conversation around our table is never dull. Why? Because everyone knows that they can talk about anything. My husband and I created this openness when our children were tiny, wanting our kids to feel comfortable enough to talk with us about anything without fear of being judged or ridiculed. To generate that, we opened the forum for our dinnertime talks, knowing that’s a cherished time in our family where all members are present, if they’re living at home.

We joke, talk about life, relationships and what’s near and ear to each of us on any given day while at dinner. Sometimes that includes one of us being poked fun at for something silly we said. But that’s okay, for each and every family member knows that the jesting is done in a loving manner with no malice. And our thought is that its good for kids to experience a little bit of loving kidding at home so they’ll be better prepared to cope with those who might tease them elsewhere. This thought process is in keeping with each person needs to be comfortable laughing at themselves.

So, tonight it was our son’s turn to have a little fun poked at him and laugh at himself, secure in the knowledge that we love him deeply and would never hurt him.

Friday, November 5, 2010

During our dinner tonight, I had the greatest fun. It began when I commented to my youngest son that I wondered how the restaurant he and I had gone to the other night had gone about making the little Lobster balls the size of peas. They had been in my pasta dish and seemed to be twice as tasty as the chunks of lobster. He said they were probably actual lobster balls.

Now, when you have a fourteen-year old son who sets himself up for this one, you just can’t let it slide. And, since words are my livelihood, I just had to go with it. So…I didn’t respond, at least not verbally—at first. Instead, I turned to look at him then raised an eyebrow, allowing what he’d implied to sink in.

It only took a few seconds for my son to realize the implications of what he’d said. And when he did, I watched his face turn a nice blush color, then a cherry red, and finally it rose to a heated crimson as he tired to stammer and stutter his way out of what he’d said. But he failed and only made matters worse when he raise up his hand and said, “I meant to say that they were probably from little lobster balls, like this,” he said creating a small circle opening between his thumb and pointer finger.

Again, I paused, waiting for these new words to sink in. My husband, sitting across from us joined in, and we indicated that it wouldn’t be nice to say that a lobster’s might be small. My son, so flustered by this point, stuttered out, “Well…they probably don’t even have any.”

By this time, despite my son being embarrassed, he was laughing hard, as were his dad and I.

Some might consider this inappropriate conversation, especially for at the dinner table. But I disagree. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but dinnertime conversation around our table is never dull. Why? Because everyone knows that they can talk about anything. My husband and I created this openness when our children were tiny, wanting our kids to feel comfortable enough to talk with us about anything without fear of being judged or ridiculed. To generate that, we opened the forum for our dinnertime talks, knowing that’s a cherished time in our family where all members are present, if they’re living at home.

We joke, talk about life, relationships and what’s near and ear to each of us on any given day while at dinner. Sometimes that includes one of us being poked fun at for something silly we said. But that’s okay, for each and every family member knows that the jesting is done in a loving manner with no malice. And our thought is that its good for kids to experience a little bit of loving kidding at home so they’ll be better prepared to cope with those who might tease them elsewhere. This thought process is in keeping with each person needs to be comfortable laughing at themselves.

So, tonight it was our son’s turn to have a little fun poked at him and laugh at himself, secure in the knowledge that we love him deeply and would never hurt him.