My hairless dog died

Losing a pet just sucks.

Over 13 years ago, I decided I was buying a hairless dog. I’ve never really went into why, if people asked, and usually just let the question go away with “I have allergies.” (Which I do)

A B&W for a photo course. Ying was an excellent model.

The reason I had a hairless dog is my ex-husband didn’t want a dog loose in the house. Dogs shed. He kept his golden retriever in a small gated off area downstairs. It was roomy for a dog pen, but lonely. So, I fixed that problem easy, and this hairless pup I found in TX, was born on my birthday. It was fate. I needed him by my side. Ying arrived in December 2008.

I left the no-roaming-dog house 2 months later.

Ying was the one constant in my life. He went everywhere with me. If I didn’t have him, people asked where he was. I felt like Ying and I attended college together. As long as the weather was acceptable for him to hang out, he would lay around in the car, waiting for my class to end, and we would walk campus.

He was spry and one day, got away from me off the leash. There was no catching Ying. After about 5 minutes he returned with a dinner roll in his mouth. He was fast as fuck, as they say.

For a photography course project, I asked a local tattoo artist, Tom Keller, who has since passed away, if he would pretend to tattoo Ying. He was completely down for the photo shoot. It started a STORM on the internet!! Like I would have even have tried tattooing him, or that Ying would just sit and get tattooed at all.

I’m so glad I have these photos I took of him while I was taking all the photography courses. I will have to go through all the ones I printed to see how many final ones I have. I only have one out that was a final part of my grade.

Found this of Ying and Tom Keller hiding in a box.

He was my protector. In his younger days he would go into a frenzy when someone got near me. He bit a lot of people, no joke there. But, after our last move, he wasn’t nearly as over-protective. He was old. Now and then, he would chase the kitten a little bit. Or even walk fast when we were out for a stroll, headed back home, of course. But, I knew the end was getting near.

He had been up in the garden two days ago. I thought he might have gotten in compost or even cat turds. He was throwing up and had the poops. Even after he licked at the water bowl and ate a little rice, he didn’t look good last night. He couldn’t walk. He enjoyed laying outside earlier in the sun. It was a beautiful day. He didn’t seem to be in pain. I carried him into his heated bed and petted his head. I told him he was a good dog. He looked back at me and I know he could hear me, letting him know it was ok to go.

He was a great dog. I will miss him. What a history we have.

~P. RIP YING. YOU WERE A BAD ASS!!

Tidbits I’ve recently learned

I talk to a crazy number of people. I’m a people person. I love them, they love me. I hear stories.

A friend recently had knee surgery. Her healing process was going well, and she was up and about in her home, getting stronger each day. Until the spider happened. A spider that made her say, “no fucking way are you gonna continue to live.” Since she was in her slippers, she wisely chose to fetch a sneaker, a sturdier killing weapon, by far.

She snuck up on that spider, giving it a hard look, with an additional, “Jesus, you are ugly” to be clear of her disapproval of the intruder. Just as she raised her rubber mallet footwear, the spider jumped at her. It wasn’t going down without a fight. She jump backwards, forgetting her crippled state, and shooting pain took the forefront. And the spider, was still alive.

She called for her son, and he arrived at her home just in time to beat the shit out of the offending spider, and to call an ambulance for his mom.

Lesson learned: Let the spider live. It’s a big house.

Another friend told me how he was chasing a suspect across a field. He could feel his pants begin to slip down the back as he ran, caused his heavy tool belt. He reached back to snatch up his pants, but wasn’t quite fast enough. His tool belt panted him mid-dash and anyone watching would have seen his cheeks snuggled in neon green boxer briefs for a flash, before he yanked them back up, without missing a step. Now that’s a pro.

Lesson learned: Take that belt in a notch.

Lastly, a friend recently failed a drug test. Not that the urine was dirty, it was clean. Heck, it wasn’t even real. But, what is wasn’t, was warm enough. Not to temp is an auto fail.

Second lesson learned: Use the prison wallet to ensure temp.

That’s enough tidbits for the day. I’ll always have more.

~P.

I just can’t stop

  1. Writing
  2. Etching
  3. Ballooning

I’m working on etching tonight, and posting on TikTok and YouTube. That’s my usual steps in posting. I started this weird combo of posting my etching art and balloon videos on TikTok. It seems to be working. My art room was formerly a beauty salon. There’s big mirrors on the one wall, but that is the only remaining part of the salon. Now, it’s my scrapbook table, turned into my work desk, a 10 foot table that is on lifts to make standing more comfortable, and an 8 foot counter and cabinets on the far wall. This is my favorite room in the house. It’s the messiest all the time. It’s all mine.

Unless there’s a cat in the room. Then it’s all theirs.

If you follow my YouTube, Insta, or TikTok, all Girlboxer1970, you’ll see my office. I do many videos in there for etching and balloons. There’s also my Facebook page Girlboxer1970.com. I am all over social media because, free promoting! I enjoy having fun. I like having friends over for drinks and to bullshit. And, what I really like, is to get balloons out and have people blow them up with me. I try to get them to fill them with air until they explode!!

These were a gift from a looner friend. I love them!!!

Why do I do this?

I like blowing up balloons and popping them, alone or with friends. I think it’s fun. Exciting. Stimulating. Throw in a shot of my fav, Rumplemintz 101, and it’s a looner’s dream party, latex scent lingering in the air.

I like how balloons feel. They are soft and squishy when they are under-filled. When air has been forced in, they over-expand, their skin is tight and squeaky to touch. They are so delicate, yet can take so much punishment. They can explode without even being touched. . .

Do you see why I like balloons?

~Pattie

My friend Lonna & I having fun.

Eat them normal, you freak.

I just screamed at my husband to get the fuck out of my art room. He’s walking around, eating peanut butter filled pretzels, but he can’t eat one like a normal person. He has to bite one end, then try to suck the peanut butter out. I suppose it’s his version of splitting an Oreo and eating out the creamy center, but it’s my version of hell. I don’t want the crumbs, crunching or sucking noises in my room while I’m trying to write! He’s lucky he’s cute.

What I really wanted to blog about is why it’s December 14th, and I haven’t even brought the Christmas decorations down from the attic. (or had someone go for me!) Last year, I had my tree up before Thanksgiving. I was bored, and hadn’t left home in ages. The lockdown of 2020. The slowest year of my life, which was followed by the quickest, 2021.

Anyone else feel like 2021 flew by in a desperate attempt to put 2020 as far in the past as possible? And now, here we are 11 days from Christmas. Once Christmas day comes and goes, also at lightening speed, the New Year will arrive. I don’t think I’m going to drag all the decorations downstairs. I just don’t have the motivation to open all those boxes, knowing I have to take all that shit down next year. See, I’m actually PLANNING ahead. I’ll just stick to buying a live, potted tree that we will plant in the spring. It can only be in the house about a week, so tomorrow, we tree shop.

After a very simple post on Facebook that I’m Grinchy, I’ve learned I am not alone. Many of my friends have no tree or decorations.

Hey, we’re all planning ahead.

~Pattie

Trapped by a Hygienist

A Dental Experience.

How I felt. Credit Deviant Art

As I was brushing my teeth this morning, I could feel my electric toothbrush losing it’s spin strength. If you’ve never used an electric toothbrush (wft you waiting for?), when the batteries are fresh, it’s like using a power tool to clean your teeth, a plastic brush, rather then a wire wheel. Some peeps might need that wire wheel though.

The last two trips I went for my semi-annual cleaning, I had the same hygienist. Don’t get me wrong, she’s super nice. She is just gifted with gab. While I was in the chair, mouth hanging open, head tilted appropriately, she told me all about her niece. I didn’t have much to reply to. It was pretty one-sided with fingers and tools in my mouth.

What I did find annoying is she would stop working, to speak. I wanted her to speak and work, so this would just be over asap. When she stopped talking, I guess I was expected to say something, but I didn’t always know how to respond, because I had begun listening to the client and hygienist in the next room.

Their conversation was much more interesting as the patient was telling how she had lived in a commune (sounded cult like) and how she hadn’t seen to a dentist back then. I don’t know how the hygienist was even getting this ladies teeth clean, she talked so much. I strained my ears to hear over my chatty tooth scraper, to hear stories of commune living. It was an escape, but only in my head, not my body.

I was trapped by my hygienist, and the one next door, was trapped by her patient. Until that dental floss goes through my teeth and I’m told the dentist will be in shortly, I am stuck in an uncomfortable position, with a strangers fingers in my mouth, poking, prodding, and scrapping. The process should go quickly, and stories do not need shared.

When she was finally done, I could barely contain my excitement. The dentist came in next and gave my teeth a clean bill of health. I was ready to roll. Except, my hygienist was now busy talking to her co-workers and had not gone to get my teeth whitener. I had to wait another 10 minutes, even though I asked her twice. Once before she cleaned my teeth and once after.

It must have slipped her mind in the seconds, after she left the room and began speaking to someone else.

I’m glad I only need to torture myself with this twice a year.

Here’s to pearly bright whites!!

Pattie

Girlboxer is BACK

Ten-ish Years Ago

To say it’s been awhile since I posted would be an understatement. It’s been a LONG while.

And now, Miss Clairol no longer makes a dime on me.

I never dreamed my first post, after years of silence, would be about my cellphone number, but, such is the case.

This morning, the text messages I sent to someone to let them know their glass etching was done, came back undeliverable. (More on glass etching later) It said it was because my phone was inactive. I sent it 3 times, like I could convince it, that it, was in error. I tried to make a call, no luckies there either. I had switched to the MUCH cheaper, StraightTalk company, and assumed I had some type of problem with my autofill.

If only it had been that easy.

According to them, I had cancelled my phone number. That’s what a young, female operator told me. I replied, “there is no way I would cancel my phone number.” She replied, “on Nov. 19 it was canceled and your plan has ended.”

Now, my reaction was probably one she never encountered before. I said, “you’re saying I canceled my number?” And she said replied with “yes.”

I literally moaned, and said, “I’m going to throw up.” She said, “Oh, it’s going to be ok! We’ll get you a new phone number.” WELL, that was not what I wanted to hear. I knew that meant there was NO WAY I was getting my old phone number back, because my account wasn’t just canceled, my phone number was marked as no longer in use, and recycled back into the number system.

The heat in my stomach shot up what felt like 10 degrees, and I could feel my heart beating in my guts. The kiss of death was when my mouth began to water like a geyser, and I either had to hang up, or this poor girl was going to hear me dry heave like a drunk after a bender. Fortunately, it was early and I knew nothing was coming up but some coffee, tops.

She could not WAIT to transfer my call to another dude, who eventually told me the exact same thing. I did not dry heave in his ear. It had taken a moment to get transferred. I’m guessing she filled him in that I was totally losing my shit over the cancelled phone number. Not screaming and yelling, but moaning and dry heaving.

Good news, I have a new number. It’s not a 717 area code phone number. Hell, it’s not even a PA area code, it’s for South Carolina, but at least a have a working phone again.

I have made it through the day and thought this would be a good way to jump back into writing on my blog. In a way, I’m having the same type of problem with my blog. I foolishly didn’t get around to changing my card number after it expired. My website did not auto renew, so I lost my website original name, and have to choose a new one. That sucks even more then losing my phone number, I think.

The question is, what do I change it too? Girlboxer-1970.com? Girlboxer1970Arts.com? Or, I’m seriously considering Girlboxer1970Pops.com.

I’m really into etching glass. I also etch metal and my husband and I make wooden signs together. That all can be found on our Facebook page, CopenCrider Creations.

I want this blog to be more about my arts and hobbies (writing, painting, photography, glass-etching, balloon fun and outdoor adventures) and zero about divorce, which is what this blog had started with. Am I still going to write a book someday? Yes, I plan to. That will be down the road. I can’t even bring myself to read my old blog posts about divorce and custody. I also have a box and file cabinet of notes I don’t open. It is still very painful. I am happily remarried (part of why my writing died out) and my ex is remarried with wife #5. I wish them the absolute best.

All my original blog content will still be on whatever I name my new blog. It has to be as close to my original website name as possible. I have social media that I use to promote my arts and I use girlboxer1970 as my handle.

I am enjoying my new hobby of making TikToks. My YouTube channel of fun balloon videos, that are FREE, are still online and I’m adding more nearly every day. Some of my videos have been viewed over 63K times!

Please subscribe to my TicTok and YouTube! And, if you’re not a subscriber to my blog, please join in the FUN!!

Instagram, TikTok and YouTube for Girlboxer1970 fun!

You’ll be hearing more from me, I promise! It’s been forever since I clicked, PUBLISH!

~Pattie

Snow Day

I had a hard time getting up the short drive last night. Schools are closed, but I have work today.

I have so many homeless clients. I hope they are at least indoors with the temperatures below 0° with the wind chill.

Stay warm,

~P.

Hey…. It’s me! Making changes.

I get so angry with myself because I have this awesome website with people who follow what I write, yet I rarely write. So I need to develop a time where I regularly write again.

We’ve had a lot of changes in our lives recently. The biggest being that Brian was awarded custody of his son, Matt. Matt’s 12, same as Tesla, my daughter. The custody process was very long. It took over a year just to get a trial.

Actually, there were two. At the first one, the judge was not pleased with either Brian, or his ex-wife’s, testimony. Instead, she appointed a lawyer for Matthew and said when he was done gathering information and writing a recommendation, then there would be an actual custody hearing.

From the day Matthew was appointed his own lawyer, until the actual decision, was a year and two months. Brian was awarded full physical and legal custody of Matt. His mother can see him the first weekend of every month and then have him December 27th until the day before he returns to school.

This decision, of course, isn’t sitting well with Matt’s mom. She was expecting to keep primary custody and hoping to get some of my income as child support to boot. I knew neither of those things would happen.

Brian has all say in Matt’s life now. He is able to take him to the doctor and doesn’t need her permission for him to start medication for ADHD. All the ideas and accepted behaviors that Matt’s been taught his whole life now need to be changed. This could prove to be a challenge.

Another change that I’m working on, I want to get back into shape. I don’t expect to become a triathlete, but I would like to be able to walk up a few flights of steps and not thinking I’m going to die. I’m seriously disappointed in myself for falling out of shape.

I gave serious thought to bariatric surgery. My weight now is considered obese, but not morbid, so I probably don’t qualify. I have not scheduled an appointment with a surgeon to see if I’m a candidate, but instead began a diary to keep track of what I eat and exercise.

I’ve lost weight before, so I believe I can do this. My starting weight. 211. My goal weight, 155. I’ve got a ways to go.

I feel sad looking at these pictures! So here’s to eating right and exercising.

Fingers crossed!

~P.

His Day Was Worse

drug addct

Today started out like any other day. Wake up before the alarm goes off. (Isn’t that frustrating!?) Shower and dress, pack lunches, walk the dog, drive to work, park somewhere I hopefully don’t get a ticket for, avoid getting hit by traffic, enter work through 4 alarm coded doors, sign in, turn on my pc, warm up my coffee, and heat my breakfast, usually an egg sandwich.  Work until first break. All normal.

First break, my work wife, Kem, asks me to walk over to the diner with her and out the door we go. That’s when things took a turn.

I could see what looked like legs, sticking out into the parking lot, across the street at the strip mall.

The clientele at this strip mall are often pan handlers. They ask for a quarter from anyone who passes by until they have enough change to buy drugs, or, go into the little liquor store for a half pint of their poison. People ask for change so much that I avoid the mall as much as possible. There are nice stores there, so like today, we were on the way over.

A man, probably in his mid to late twenty’s, was lying on the sidewalk, his head against the brick column. His shirt was pulled up, way up, and his jacket was nearly off of him. He was blue and getting bluer. Kem asked if anyone called 911 and there was a lady on the phone already. No one was doing anything for this guy.

I asked if he was breathing and the lady said yes. I was doubtful. So was Kem. She checked his pulse and said it was weak. We were told he fell twice in the parking lot and they carried him to the sidewalk. I presume, “propping him against the column”.  He had blood on his knee and both hands. So we straightened him out and I did a chest rub. He didn’t respond.

He didn’t seem to be getting any bluer, but wasn’t responding, even though his eyes had opened. They weren’t blinking. Then he started to convulse. I came around to the same side Kem was on and said to watch for needles when we roll him on his side. He was breathing again and looked less blue. That was a relief. I knew we just needed to keep him as comfortable as possible until the ambulance arrived.

I tried to pull his clothes over his bare skin while he was on his side. He had surgical scars all over his lower back. I don’t know this guy’s name, though they found a credit card beside him that said Henry Something, so the EMT starting calling him Henry. Henry smashed his phone during his falling down moments.  Kem had tried to see if he had any ICE contacts listed. It wouldn’t turn on. We left after the fire truck arrived to finish her errand.

The diner employee said she thought he had just been there and used the restroom. I told her to be careful emptying the trash. She nodded, not having thought of that.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say pain medication caused this man to go to this length, to take a drug he’s become addicted to, in a public place. Had he lost consciousness in the restroom, he might be dead. Actually, I don’t know that he lived.

And directly across the street, he can apply for assistance to break his addiction. I pray he soon gets help.

I felt sick after getting back to work. I never saw someone overdose before. I hope I never see it again.

God Bless all,

~P.

On a good note: 7 years ago today I started my blog. 🙂

Day After Thanksgiving

Brian has gone to get Matthew for our part of the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. Tesla is with her father for his part of the holiday weekend. She’s coming back home by the time her brother gets here with Brian. She’s very excited to see Matt. I’m enjoying a few days off of work, having today off as a holiday too. I’m thoroughly enjoying it, as I do laundry.  Might as well get a jump on it. Thanksgiving Day was very nice. Delicious food that everyone contributed. My house was full of people, and I love that. My parents, Brian, and I played a card game called Hand and Foot. Brian and my dad crushed mom and I. They haven’t been playing nearly as long as Mom and I. It was a bit of a disgrace to lose. But that’s okay, we had fun and only had to tell my dad it was his turn every minute or two.

Like pretty much everyone else celebrating Thanksgiving, I overate. No longer having a gallbladder, that’s a foolish thing to do. And I paid for it just like I said I would when I sat back down with seconds. And then late last night, I decided to eat some spicy pizza with Brian and my acid reflux went off the hook. Now my throat is sore to the point where I can’t even drink hot coffee from bringing the spicy pizza back up around 3 am. I told Brian, “no more spicy pizza for me at night. My throat feels like I swallowed acid.”

Just finished swapping the laundry. The lint came out so pretty. I almost want to use it for a craft!

23998502_1650659838287432_418665647_o

We’ve been painting rocks and hiding them, and when I say we, I mostly mean me. Brian paints rocks, but, doesn’t hide them. And, when I hide his rocks, he yells at me for hiding them. Ok, maybe not yells, but asks why I’m hiding his rocks. LOL I said, “you got to hide them because we’re not painting them for ourselves.” I think he just forgets to hide them.

SafeLite Auto is coming out to fix my windshield today. We’ve come to the conclusion it was hit by a rock and not shot by a pellet gun. Though, if my windshield was completely shot out by an actual bullet, it wouldn’t surprise me. York has had so much violence and drug overdoses this year. I really hope the new mayor can do something to change things. I don’t live in York. Working downtown is scary enough. Gun fights at corner markets a block from my office. Road rage incidents that led to death. A young girl being gang-raped near the York Fairgrounds. And the heroin epidemic is so bad the local television station is doing a year-long report on it. York County has the second highest rate of overdoses in the state. This absolutely shocks me because York county is mostly rural. The child abuse and neglect is also ridiculously high. And, there are 12 prisoners on death row from York County, out of the 156 in Pennsylvania. That seems high. I pray for my county, country and the world. Outside of my happy house, it’s scary. So, I’ll just enjoy my day of laundry and wait for my family to return to the nest. Only about 5 hours to go and I’m going to binge watch “Medium” the entire time.

Well, between laundry loads.

Thanks for stopping by and reading my post. I hope you and your family had a wonderful Thanksgiving full of the fellowship, love and really good food!

#EatingLeftovers

~P.

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