My Son

Early yesterday morning I got a phone call from my son.

"Mom, I don't feel well. I can't stop throwing up and I have a bad case of diarrhea."

After a visit to the doctor's office, he was admitted to the hospital. They ran massive tests and think he very possibly might have swine flu. My kid is sicker than a dog. He is severely dehydrated and is running a high temp. His hospital room door has a sign on it that says something to the effect that it is advised any visitors wash their hands thoroughly after leaving this room.

Two weeks ago, a kid here, the same age as my son, died from the swine flu so I'm hoping the doctor is just being extremely cautious. It's not a pleasant thing to see your kid suffering and IVs running into his arm.

The tests results have not come back yet. I'll keep y'all up on his condition.

The Confession

I have a secret. I am not proud of what I am about to confess to you, but confess I will. I have a phobia. Wikipedia defines 'phobia' as thus:

Phobia
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

A phobia (from the Greek: φόβος, phóbos, fear or morbid fear), is an irrational, intense, persistent fear of certain situations, activities, things, or people. The main symptom of this disorder is the excessive, unreasonable desire to avoid the feared subject. When the fear is beyond one's control, and if the fear is interfering with daily life, then a diagnosis under one of the anxiety disorders can be made.[1]


"A phobia of what?' you ask. Okay, let me take a deep breath before I continue and tell myself I can share almost anything with you and you will still return to my blog and read my daily musings.

Here it comes.

Ready?

I suffer from acridophobia.


Acridid
Acrididae
The family of orthopterous insects which includes the true locusts and the grasshoppers with short antennae.
Acrididae is the name of a large and diverse family of insects (order Orthoptera) which consists of the locusts and true grasshoppers. There are about 7,000 species in 1,100 genera.

Acridide
acridids
acridophage, acridophagous, acridophagy
Feeding on, consuming, or eating grasshoppers.
Hunter-gathers eating grasshoppers at acridophagy.

acridophile
acridophilous
acridophily
Fondness for grasshoppers.
acridophobe
acridophobia
An abnormal fear of grasshoppers and locusts.
acridophobic



Yup. My name is Beej. And I am an acridophobic.


Okay, how did this come about, you might ask. It's all because of Eddie Magarvo. (Yes Eddie, I am putting your real name here because you caused me a lot of suffering over the years not to mention a ton of extra footwork, walking blocks and blocks around my house so as not to have to walk past a grasshopper! I hate you, Eddie Magarvo and if you ever have the misfortune of crossing my path, I WILL hurt you.)

This is the story. When I was a very very little girl, I loved nothing better than to start my day by standing in the front yard and watching the 'big kids' walk to school. my folks had installed a fence around our yard (mostly to keep me prisoner because even at this tender age I had a bad habit of taking off as soon as the opportunity to do so presented itself.) Anyway, every morning Eddie would walk by and every morning I would say "hi Eddie!" and every morning Eddie would throw a grasshopper in my face. (I hate you Eddie Magarvo.)

Now you would think that after this happened one or two times, I would know not to say "Hi Eddie!" to this mean moron. Not so. This went on for weeks. And every single morning I would have a large grasshopper thrown in my little face.

Eventually it did dawn on me; Do not say "hi" to Eddie Magarvo! But the damage was done, and I was left with this horrible phobia.

Now, you might rightly say, "But Beej! You feed your lizards crickets and seem to have no problem with that!" And you would be correct. But as much as crickets and grasshoppers resemble one another, they are not the same! A cricket is a cricket and a grasshopper is, well, a grasshopper.

And so, I am on a mission to face my fears, and as part of that process, I vow to study this photo daily until it doesn't bother me any longer:



And now, my kind and sympathetic friends, I think I need to go lie down and recover.



.

Lizards and Other Reptiles.

I have not shown any recent photos of my lizards, which are, afterall, the inspiration for the title of this blog. But first, I want to share this remarkable thing we saw in a neighbor's yard:



This is a six to seven foot long snake skin. I can tell it's freshly shed because it has no holes and it hasn't collapsed yet. I was all over the place trying to find the snake. I can't tell you how badly I wanted to see him!

Now, to the lizards..these are bearded dragons from Australia. They are well over a foot long, one female and one male. They have bred three times but each 'clutch,' which is what a group of lizard eggs is called, was infertile.

The female has a slight underbite and is in the process of shedding, so her scales are two different colors. I'm hoping that showed up on the photo.

These were about an inch long when we got them.

Oak-Leigh Farms

Oak Leigh Farms is a beautiful place. The white house has a huge surrounding porch and a circular driveway in front, giving it an antibellum look. It took me a while to find it. In fact several times I believed I must have missed it somehow, and considered turning around. But then, there it was.

The first thing I saw when I parked the car was a large fenced area with several alpacas resting. I have a feeling these were the mommas-to-be.

As I went up the driveway, I saw this on the back of a van parked there:



I continued and saw a wooden fence surrounding a large portion of land.
A gentleman approached me, hand extended. I introduced myself and asked if I could get some photos. He could not have been more gracious.

This is Ken, who owns the farm along with his beautiful wife, Patti.



Ken opened the gate and led me to the area where about ten alpacas were grouped together. I was afraid I would startle them, but these alpacas loved the camera. In fact, this one came right up to my lens.




My favorite had to be this half grown alpaca (I believe this one is Bella) who was apparently hungry and thought I must be mama because she suddenly grabbed my finger and began to suck.





I'll tell you, the only thing keeping me from whipping out my checkbook and buying this precious little girl was the knowledge that I don't have enough land. Or it would have been a done deal.

I loved this guy. (I think they said his name is Dusty.)




Then we went to see the peacocks. Oh my, they were beautiful!








Afterwards, they gave me a little mini lesson in spinning, with what is called a drop spinner and which is the forerunner of the spinning wheel. Here is the process from the raw wool to the finished skeins and then clothes.








Sorry thats in backward order but it gives you the right idea. And see the brightly colored skeins? Those skeins were dyed with kool-aid!


I said my goodbyes to the Spruells and thanked these wonderful, warm folks for allowing me to spend the afternoon at their farm. They invited me back in May when the alpacas are to be shorn. I look forward to this but I have a feeling I'll be back there long before spring.


OAK-LEIGH
peacocks and alpacas
ken and Patti Spruell
11780 Fortner St.
Dothan Al 36305





++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

While I ws there, my son phoned me. Here's a snippet of our conversation:

"Hi mom."
"hi."
"where are you?"
"Im at an alpaca farm."
(long silence)
"What are you doing at an alpaca farm?
"I'm looking at alpacas."
"Oh. who are you with?"
"I'm by myself."
"Oh. Why did you go there?"
"I wanted to see alpacas."
"oh."
(long silence)
"I'll see you when I get home, son. Bye."
"bye mom."

Looking for an Alpaca Farm

Today I am bored and restless so I thought to myself, "Beej," I say, "today would be a good day to find an alpaca farm."

I know, I know this might seem a little strange. Most women go clothes shopping when they are bored. Or read a book. Or take a nap. But I don't want to do those things. I want to go visit an alpaca farm.

A few days ago I saw an ad on tv saying that this is Alpaca Week and therefore we should all go to our local alpaca farm and see the animals. Apparently, most people who farm alpacas also sell sweaters and the like made from the wool of the animal, so I would guess Alpaca week is also a way for them to sell their goods.

How do you find an alpaca farm near you? No problem! The ad included this link to an alpaca farm locator!

http://www.alpacainfo.com/fr_locator.asp

So I went there and lo and behold if there is one in Dothan Alabama! (I'm amazed what I can find in this small city!)

It is called Oak Leigh. Nice huh?





Wowsah.. Those alpaca scarves must be expensive!


Well, further browsing on their site led me to realize that it isnt necessarily the wool that sells well, but the animals themselves, especially if one happens to be a pregnant alpaca!

This little gal sells for a mere $25,000:



One interesting thing is that Oak-Leigh also raises peacocks. what diverse ranchers these folks are.

A True Love Story

This is a true story.


Frank and Irene had been married for almost 50 years when they decided to pack it all up and retire to the east coast of Florida. Irene, especially, loved the ocean and every evening, after dinner was done and they had washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, they would walk, hand in hand, on the beach. It made Frank happy to watch Irene's face while they walked. She almost looked young again.

Their life was idyllic. But then Irene got sick. She had cancer. Frank took care of her as best he could and still, as long as she was able, they would walk hand in hand on that beach in the evenings.

Sadly, Irene passed away. Frank stopped going to the beach for his nightly walks and it was a long long time before he could do so again.

Then one evening, he ate his meal, washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, same as every evening. But this particular evening, he then went to his bedroom and took the urn with Irene's ashes and walked to the beach. He slowly walked down the fishing pier, took the top off the urn and scattered Irene's ashes into the water.

Ever since that evening, Frank goes for his nightly walks on the beach alone. But he does not feel alone. He feels he is with Irene. And as he walks every evening, he sings:


Irene goodnight
Irene goodnight
Goodnight Irene
Goodnight Irene
I'll see you in my dreams





Lead Belly

Waxing

Today I went to see my hairdresser, Jamee. Jamee is s a specialist in coloring and I do not trust anyone else with my hair. She is worth not only the rather high price but also the hefty tip I always give to her. (I do this not only because Jamee is my friend but because I want her to remain very very happy to do my hair.)

While I was there, I had Jamee perform one of those girly-girl things we women have to suffer through...waxing. Men, you have NO IDEA! None whatsoever! This HURTS! So I thought I would explain what goes on here with this.

I have my eyebrows and my bikini line waxed. Eyebrows are fairly easy. The bikini line is a little nerve wrecking. Here is the process; Jamee heats up wax in this little burner thingy that looks all the world like a teeny slow cooker. Then she takes a little tongue depressor type of tool and spreads hot melted wax under each eyebrow. While the was is still hot, she puts a little piece of gauze type stuff on top of the soft wax and waits for it all to set. Then whambamthankyouma'am!!!she yanks it off taking unwanted eyebrow hairs with it.

The bikini line is similar except you need to strip to your undies. A bigger tongue depressor tool applies the wax to the top of the inside of your thighs. She applies a bigger piece of gauzy stuff and when it cools, whambamthankyouma'am! she yanks it off.

Afterwards your skin is a little red, but this quickly clears up and then your skin is as smooth as a baby's bottom, and your eyebrows are a very feminine, clean sight.

I am lucky; some women need to have a mustache waxed off. And some women do their legs and their arms. I am only hirsute on my head so I have no worry there. But can you imagine a man doing this? They just take a razor and shave it off! Now when have you ever seen a woman do that on her upper lip? None I know of. men do not suffer to look nice. We women don't give it a second thought. But someday, when I am 90 years old, I am not going to do any of this. I'm going to let myself go to hell in a hand basket and thumb my nose at younger women who still believe in this torture, and maybe even yell out to them, "What the HELL is wrong with you?!"