Saturday, October 28, 2017

Calendar Madness...and a giggle

It's been an exhausting few weeks getting the calendar for our non-profit charity ready.  Oh, creating it was fun!  Chasing after Board Members to keep reminding them I didn't have ad copy (or payment for such!) was the tiring part.  We use a fantastic company in Louisiana, Fox Printing, allowing me to do everything online.  All was well: I'd downloaded the calendar, proofed everything and it was headed to print.  Then I went through my invoices to make sure I had one for everyone...which is when I made a horrifying discovery.

I'd left out a $350 ad!  What made it worse was this guy was a repeat customer for the calendar and one of the first to get everything to me.

Trying not to panic, I sent an e-mail, asking if I could redo just one page, at the end.  Two minutes later the phone rang and my rep Melissa was telling me to take a deep breath, we'd get it fixed.  I jokingly told her I'd always wanted to yell, "Stop the presses!" but not like this.  We got it fixed, putting delivery just one day off.  (Yeah, I'm paying for my mistake.  Delivery would've been yesterday but since it's delivery until Monday).

In the meantime, while I was waiting for the Guys to get their stuff together (I should point out that Hubby had his completed...then again he has me to,  remind him) I worked on the annual Shop Calendar for Hubby.  This started years ago when we had our first Chocolate Lab, Smoke.  It began with a hunting theme but over the years has morphed into whatever happens during the year to spark my creativity.  I must say, Kim Ayres, I know how it must feel to have a subject like me who hates being photographed: Smoke would see the camera, sigh and slink away.  Hubby still has the calendars in the Shop and his long time customers often ask to peruse through them. There's about 17 years worth, with the addition of Boudreaux and now one starring Bourbon.

Ah Bourbon.  Hubby calls him our problem child, while I prefer the phrase, "all boy".  Hubby will proclaim him stupid, I insist he's just stubborn. Last night proved my point.  Bourbon has been wearing a shock collar (I know, I didn't like the idea either but on a scale of 1 to a high of 7, it's on 1).  He's only gotten zapped three times in two weeks, now preferring to stop what he's doing after the warning vibration.  B. usually just wears it in the Shop but last night Hubby left it on to teach him a lesson about stealing my pillow off the couch.  He actually perches like a vulture, waiting for me to forget to move it, then he snatches it and runs off.  Twice I walked away and he did nothing.  Scott took the collar off. Fifteen minutes later I forgot and Houdini snatched the pillow.  And yet, when Hubby and I both said, "No!" at the same time, he dropped it in my hand.

I tell you all this to explain this year's calendar theme.  And yes, although I downloaded both calendars the same day, Hubby's is already back and hidden until Christmas.

The original artwork:

The cover for 2018:
(No, you're not imagining things.  I came back and updated to the final cover). 

I'll let you know if this year's theme is a hit or not.  I'm guessing many giggles will ensue.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Hump Day Blues

 Begin day by oversleeping.  Check.
         Take dog out so husband can sleep off pain of wrenched back.  (Condition courtesy of 13 month old, 95 lb. enthusiastic Lab who escaped from truck at Post Office on Tuesday and pretended to be deaf.  Said escapee proceeded out of parking lot at high speed to chase a log truck, narrowly missed getting hit by a car, toured the houses next door and only came running when Hubby put truck in gear as if to leave him.)
         Come back in, hand Inmate #1 a dog treat.  He runs to sit on couch and eat it, eyeing Hubby warily.
         Check on Hubby.  Condition update: may not be back.  Could be kidney stone.
         Offer to stay home to keep eye on Hubby rejected.
         Caution dog to be good and stay clear of Hubby.  I think dog nods.  There are rumors of a shock collar in his future.
         Arrive at work.  First two events of my day canceled to attend mandatory District meeting.  Place note on door for Group 3 to expect me at 12:30 p.m..
         Intestinal track objects to last night’s dinner. Run to bathroom. 
         Check e-mail.
         Revisit bathroom.
       Read news.  Learned Press Secretary is daughter of former Gov. Mike Huckabee.
         Back to bathroom.  Not sure if it’s dinner or the morning news.
      Go to meeting.  Sit through power point presentation dealing with integrating online registration.  Concept applies to only five of the 50 people present.
         Break into groups.  Supervisor tells us to count off, “1, 2, 1 ,2…” to split us into two groups for 20 minute sessions.
         Coworker asks, “Am I a 1 or a 2?” 
         Resist urge to smack my forehead.  These people work with children after school.  Supervisor and I help them count.  One looks confused.  I resist urge to smack another forehead.
         Counting system puts me in a group having nothing to do with my job.  Learned 4H isn’t just for raising cows/chickens to show at county fair.  Now they teach computer coding and rocket building.
         Go to 2nd group.  First group still being held hostage.
         Glance at watch.  Have to be back in 30 minutes to let in my group.  Exit to car.
         Car turns traitor.  Without warning, engine won’t turn over.
         Review my accumulated knowledge of vehicle malfunctions.  Two minutes later, call Hubby….who is at work 30 miles away.
         Am instructed to check battery cable connection.  Send photo of gizmo placed over battery to ensure that the message, “Remove cover to check battery” isn’t a trick.  Why hide the battery?
         Did I mention it’s hot and humid outside?
         Checked cables. Didn’t help.  Cursed.  Didn’t help either but it made me forget the heat for a moment. 
         Sister-in-law to the rescue, on her day off.  She has jumper cables.  (And yes, we know how to use them).
         SIL can’t get close enough to my car.  Asks me if I can back up.  I simply reply, “I can’t” and watch that, “I did NOT just say that!” look glint in her eyes.
         SIL has to leave parking lot, go around block and enter from the other direction. 
         Call office (50 feet behind me) in case Group 3 wonders where I am.  Get answering machine…because they’re all eating BBQ.
         SIL and I get car cranked.  Report to Hubby.  Am advised to IMMEDIATELY go to auto place down the street and have battery replaced. 
         SIL insists on following, yet somehow ends up ahead of me due to traffic lights.
         Call the office.  Get a human.  Tell my sad tale, add I’m on my way to get a new battery, so if Group 3 calls, I’ll get there.
         Note to self: people filled with BBQ can only mutter, “Okay” after a trying personal moment is shared.
         Enter the Forbidden Zone…a.k.a. auto parts place, where women are generally invisible or huffed at.
         Am waited on by woman I actually see eye to eye with.  We exchange notes on the dangers of being short.  She tests my battery…it’s at half speed.
         The purchase tests my wallet.  When did batteries get so damn expensive?!  You’d think it was gold plated.  Mine was the “Silver Level” .  Honestly, I expected a little bling.
         Nice guy installs battery as SIL and I wait.  Hand him battery cover, which fell into floorboard in 2 pieces.  He notes one is upside down.  Feels need to literally point that out while reading the crap about removing cover to get to battery.  Lose cool chick points.
         Did I mention how dang hot and humid it is?
        Return to work.  Find twice the number expected in Group 3.  Apologize profusely.  They’re in cars, eating lunch.  And smiling.
         Call Hubby to give update.  Hear shock collar has just been delivered.
         Note to self: don’t jump out of truck at Post Office and run around being nosy.
         Life is filled with moments that make you go, “ARGHH!”.  But senior citizens have experienced enough of those moments to show sympathy instead of anger.
         Next goal.  Uneventful ride home.
         Reminder to self: country deer have their eye on the ladies right now, not cars.

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

Bourbon's Reminder

Don't just water them...

take time to enjoy them.