Month: January 2022

What’s on the Floor?

~ judyrutrider ~ 15 Comments

The girls and I came home from a hike in the wash, the other day, and even though it wasn’t hot, they were thirsty. I usually carry a hydration pack, and they are adept at drinking from the nipple, (yes, we all share the same nipple) but this hike was short so I had left the cumbersome pack behind.

Sadie drinking from my bite valve

Hoping to prevent a swamp around the indoor water bucket, I encouraged them to drink before we came in the house. But, of course, one stop at the fountain wasn’t sufficient to slake their thirst, and they topped off in the kitchen. My partner BikeMike, a most skillful grumbler, griper, grouser, and growler, began a tirade about the mess. Now, before you take his side in this earth-shattering debate, let me plead my case.

Separate but equal segregated water dishes for dogs and cats

When said partner first joined my pack, we were just me and the love of my life, Studley Dude (a Maine Coon cat who seemed half cat, half dog), and a couple of other cats who had adopted me as their staff. He was informed that should he have any idea of being higher in the household hierarchy than Studley Dude, he might as well not move in. He readily agreed, being as how he had already developed more affection for my cats than for me, and like them, saw me more as staff than was warranted by my opinion that I was the pack leader.

But I digress. Shortly after settling in, he installed a dishwasher and a new kitchen floor, white, ceramic tile. I know you’re asking who would put white tile anywhere, much less on a kitchen floor?! But I wanted to have a CLEAN kitchen. About ten years later, I decided that clean was highly overrated. So, when we remodeled, I chose a dirt colored floor. Aside from vacuuming up the dog hair, it requires no maintenance. I’m only half kidding. It gets cleaned around the water bucket about twice a day! But seriously, the two dogs clean up anything that’s spilled on the floor and the vacuum gets the rest. As a matter of fact, since we got dogs, the dishwasher is almost superfluous.

I’m Too Retarded to Learn Politically Correct Speech

~ judyrutrider ~ 10 Comments

Yes, my ability to learn and adapt has been retarded by my ageing brain. When my brain was more agile, I had no difficulty memorizing new words, as in, “El gusto es mio; soy Juan Martinez”. It was a little harder to learn to use new words for old things, but with some work, I could do it. But as I age, time goes by so quickly and re-naming things is just confusing. I mean, in my lifetime people who have naturally dark skin have been known in polite society (the only kind I have ever traveled in) as negro, colored, black, and African American. But now I guess I’m supposed to avoid even alluding to the fact that my friend Rhonda is of a different race than I am for fear of someone being offended that I noticed.

So, the other day I heard someone refer to their singular partner’s attribute as “their” thing. Okay, I get that perhaps one’s partner may be neither exclusively male nor female, and I don’t really have a vested interest in that, but unless one is referring to the holdings of multiple partners, he/she is NOT a “their”. I get that referring to one’s mate as “it” would be a bit impersonal, but it would, at least give him/her exclusive status.

I’m the first to admit that I’m insensitive. I mean truly, if you’re trying to insult me, please give me a heads up; because I’m not likely to get it. So, it’s unrealistic to expect me to be all that sensitive to your sensibilities. And BTW you probably can’t hurt my feelings unless I value your opinion. That leaves a boatload of people out.

Oh, and while I’m on this career busting, politically incorrect rant, don’t expect me to memorize an acronym that grows longer every week for your sexuality . I don’t expect you to recognize that I’m a PMW and I don’t care who or what consenting entity you consider arousing.

I have some advice for folks who want to take umbrage at my archaic language: Don’t get your panties in a wad and never ascribe to malice what can be explained by the ageing brain.