What the HECK happened to July?  I can't believe it's been since the 10th that I posted-- what a freakin' blur!  For crying out loud, we haven't even had time to give the dogs a second bath yet, and the generally accepted months of summer are almost gone!  And we've only gotten out the kiddie pool for the dogs once so far!  (Yes, we bought them a kiddie pool; no, they won't go in that, either.  Don't get me started.)

Let's see: Necon was a blast, and I am bit by bit getting picture links and pictures on the Necon site.  Look for more actual photos there by the end of the week, thanks to a few great people who've donated and/or agreed to let me swipe their images.  It's a good thing that old American Indian legend about having your soul stolen by the camera's image isn't true, because the Necon folk would, indeed, be zombies by now.  There's likely some question about that being true in and of itself, but I won't go there.  Nope, I won't.

What else?  I am unsupervised as once again The Husband (westonochse) is bouncing all over the country on business.  So little me, so many Chippendales.  Okay, just kidding.  Really.

Work is... well, work.  The Super Secret Squirrel Project is not progressing very well, being pushed back in favor of other stuff.  But as always, I have great plans for it.  My in-laws came and went, having found and bought their own, exceptionally beautiful (covetcovetcovet) home not very far from us.  We all went to Kartchner Caverns last Sunday, and it was quiet spectacular.

Kudos to faustfatale, who won an IAMTW Award (the first year they've been given out), for her book, Snakes on a Plane.  Excellent!

And finally, at the end of this month, I will return to the world of martial arts, at least for a long weekend.  I have missed it, a lot, since moving away from Chicago and the Degerberg in September of 2002.  The one place I tried here was too heavy on throwing, and my back made it quickly and loudly known it was unhappy about throwing in such quantity.  I've tried to at least keep in shape, and about a week or so ago, I saw a flyer for a Martial Arts Instructors Training Camp in Grand Junction, Colorado, headed by an instructor under whom I was lucky enough to study numerous times.  This is my chance to refresh my memory (and break my body, ha ha) on all the good stuff I haven't had in five years.  With this coming up, I'm trying to cram in as many workouts as I can.  Ow...

And, of course, we must have images.  As always, click for close-ups.  So:


Okay, it's way toooooo late.  Must sleeeeeep....

They say time flies, and I know that's often true.  It is, however, not true for all parts of that same year, or however much time you're specifically measuring.  In some ways the past year has seemingly passed quite quickly, while a big chunk of it, a heart chunk, has gone by agonizingly slowly.

Our beloved Lily died one year ago today.

There is little I can say.  Not a single day has passed that I have not thought of her often.  Very often, actually, and most of the time when I do, I still have to force my thoughts away because I will end up crying.  Yes, I miss her that much, even with the rock steady adoration of Goblin and the goofy love of Ghost.  Lily will always be a part of my heart, and that part is mixed with her ashes in her little Memorial Garden in the back yard.  When I went out there to talk to her this afternoon, I noted that there are blooms on the choya, and the other three cacti have blooms coming (we recently added a rather fragile new one). 

So, a few Lily Memories:


In the lefthand picture, Lily, was a young lady (about 16 months old) on a playdate with 8 month old Zeke the Wolfhound (pictured elsewhere in the Gallery, link below). It was early spring in Arizona. Look how beautiful and healthy she was.

In the righthand picture, Miss Chunky started out sitting on the couch, then simply let herself fall sideways. Goblin tried to squirm out, only to find Lily wiggling her way up and next to his chest. She immediately went sound asleep, and he just gave up and did the same.

Both photos will click out larger if you like.  For those who haven't seen, here's the full Lily Gallery.

Sleep tight, Lily.  We still miss you.

After this morning started as a beautiful day, low-eighties and kind of hazy/overcast, we had another incident of TFW this afternoon.  It came on suddenly and viciously, blowing metal chairs over, trying to destroy my fragile tomato and herb plants. and hellbent on beating the palms to death.  We ran around like crazy trying to tie up plants, stop the pool cover from blowing away, moving portable plants to more shielded locations, etc.  Spitting and blinking away the dust, trying to keep our balance, etc.  For those who are not familar with it, TFW stands for THAT F***ING WIND, although lately I'm starting to think of it as TFLSW (THAT F***ING LIFE-SUCKING WIND), since it sucks the moisture and life out of everything in every direction.  It also makes The Husband (westonochse) extremely crabby.  He's not the only one, but I tend to view it with a sense of surrender, since as with so many things birthed by Mother Nature, there's absolutely nothing I can do about it but clean up the mess afterward.

So, because we need to be a bit cheerier here, I invite you to another one of Goblin's infamous Movie Moments, this one titled THE QUACKER.  It was filmed sometime ago, but that Quacker just never, at least to me (and Goblin) loses its hilarity:

Does this really need an introduction? We think not:

We had a pretty good weekend, saw The Messengers at the movie theater. I'd been dying to go, and I will say that this was quite the edge-of-your-seat flick. Not recommended for those who hear noises in the dark... unless, of course, you're like me and enjoy that sort of creepy thing. There were several times when I jumped. We then did a little bit of clothes shopping and we are now both making serious efforts with diet and exercise. I think that statement speaks for itself.

We're back at work (bleh) after a comp day off on Friday. The Husband (westonochse ) had to spend his comp day flitting about the country in a futile quest for a new-job polygraph that was ultimately canceled... after he flew 1,900 miles to take it. But I digress. We had fabulous curry and red pepper chicken in roasted squash with mango salsa couscous and fresh mango and avocado slices (oh, yuuuuum) for Sunday dinner (as always, thank you, Wes). Tonight we had diet TV dinners (gaaaawk). I worked out today, so did Wes. I am now sore and tired. Thus is the report of our exciting lives. Wes did, however, get a great box of books Wednesday after work (okay, so I've gone back a bit farther than just the weekend) containing primo contributor copies of Recalled to Life. Excellent! I've also made it through the first chunk (of eight chunks) in Level 1 of Rosetta Stone Latin America Spanish. Although it's fun and captivating while I'm doing it, and I think I'm doing okay, I despair of my brain actually remembering these words a half hour after I shut down the program-- this after I've made myself retake the first lessons at least three times on three different occasions. Right now I can remember how to say cat, jumping, and purple. Somehow I think I should be doing better.

Poor baby Ghost-- it seems Goblin's Toes (he of the overly loud snoring right now) outclassed her and only one person commented on her cute and prickly chin. If only everyone could feel her joyfully snuffling against their cheeks with her scratchy little whiskers. Let's see if she can win a few hearts with a soulful look instead:

For folks in the HWA who've not yet voted in the Stokers, please give some consideration to The Husband's story, The Secret Lives of Heroes   (westonochse), which appeared in Horror Garage #11.  There's a link up on the recs page so you can read it if you haven't already.  Voting ends on the 10th, so the time come neareth.  Thanks!

The weather here seems to have finally broken for the better.  It was in the mid-60s today, and I think we're talking only mid-30s for the night's low.  It's far too late for the totem pole cactus in the front yard; it's black and dead and will have to be dug up and returned to Home Depot (thank you, 1-year warranty and the ability to find receipts).  Also to be returned are 5 utterly dead Bird of Paradise bushes.  In the meantime, The Husband ( westonochse  ) has refused to give up on the three baby palm trees in the backyard, no matter how completely destroyed they look.  We have very little time left on the warranty for those, plus they would be a son-of-a-gun to dig up, so if they are truly dead, we'll just eat the cost.

Having gone through too many Chicago winters, I truly feel for the people trapped inside the deep freezes going on around the country right now.  My Chicago time left me over-sensitive to not just cold, but cool-- I truly can't tolerate it when the temperature drops.  I'd rather have heat, and if I have to deal with humidity to get it, so be it.  When going to a Monday night reading at the Red Lion one summer, I met a friend in the downstairs area who said to me, "You look positively radiant, and I could just die, I'm so hot and miserable!"  She'd had a 20-minute drive through city streets in an air-conditioned vehicle to get there and could've passed out in the 95 degrees and 90% humidity temperatures.  I'd just come from a one hour and forty-minute bumper-to-bumper "expressway" drive from the suburbs and-- you guessed it-- I never turned on my air-conditioning because I hate it.  I just rolled down the windows and sat in the heat.  Chicago winters have left me with permanent frostbite damage between the toes of one foot and a complete abhorrence of anything vaguely winterlike.  I think of my tiny, 90-year-old second cousin in her Chicago apartment off Clark Street and I shiver for her.

On a lighter note, just because I can, I give you...

So The Husband (westonochse) has posted a video on his LJ, and since it involves Yours Truly, I stole it to put it here and He Can't Stop Me So There.  Besides, I'm mad at him.  He told me all sorts of bullocks (can you tell we watched V for Vendetta tonight?) to woo me and get me to move down here to southern Arizona.  "It's warm," he said.  "Lovely climate," he said.  Just for the record, when my Dad left to go home after the movie, Wes brought an object into the house.  He then made me step out onto the front patio and he hit me with it.

It was a (*&#$(*&@#($& snowball.




The music is Sean Paul, Temperature.

How fitting.

... and see what goes on.



Yes, our secrets are revealed.

(The fault behind this is placed entirely, utterly, and squarely on The Husband's westonochse) shoulders.)

Lots of rain here, definitely into the monsoon season. The main road to get to our street periodically floods, but so far we're okay because we can take a detour. While it adds about, oh, 12 miles to the trip, at least we don't get swept away. Unfortunately with the rain has come a substantial drop in temperature and elevation in humidity: 70 degrees and 88% humidity is not my ideal climate. To me, that's cold and damp. Yuck.

Got some auctions going.  Check it out if you're looking for Buffy/Wicked Willow, BadAss SuperHero Women, or a little zombies and suspense.

Harkening more fondly back to the hot and dry days of last month, here for pictorial enjoyment is this shot of our WaterPig, Goblin:


Click on it for a closer look at how a WaterPig bites the water.  :)

I have now been to the gym 5 times in 2 weeks and 1 day.  My MP3 player died last week, so I got another one over the weekend; there's nothing, absolutely nothing worse in the world of exercise, at least in my opinion, than running without music.  The new one works pretty well.  I'm tired, having forced my way back up to 2.56 miles in 30 minutes.  That may not sound like much, but prior to resuming the workouts, I was horrified to read my workout book and realize I hadn't been to the gym since August of 2005.  Yes, 2005.

::tsk::

Yours truly, The Husband (westonochse), Ghost and Goblin, all dressed up for our little town's 4th of July Pets on Parade!  Not a bad family outfit considering we discovered the event at the last minute and made our "costumes" at 9:30 p.m. last night.

So both The Husband (westonochse) and I have auctions up on eBay right now:

http://search.ebay.com/_W0QQsassZdustystacks
http://search.ebay.com/_W0QQsassZdrkwrtr

Check them out and support our sumptuous (uh...) Arizona lifestyle.

I am trying to be productive for a change. Right now we have a handyman-type friend replacing the trim around our back door, which was apparently installed with a prime coat on it but never painted. It has warped beyond repair. After that, time allowing, he's supposed to install a set of glass shower doors in the master bathroom. As I despise the way the air circulation makes the shower curtain blow around the tub, that is something to which (note the proper grammar, dam-bit) I'm particularly looking forward.

There are 23 pictures in my LJ Lily Gallery:

http://pics.livejournal.com/yvonnenavarro/gallery/0000qrq6

Some are shots that folks have seen before, posted here and there in the LJ. Many are not, particularly on the second page; for instance, the one of Lily in Grandpa Marty's Puma, which is barely larger than a freakin' go-cart, is alone worth a look.

Because some things look so close and realistic you feel like you can almost touch them, today's techology can bring immense joy as well as incredible pain.

Today marks one month (or 4 weeks) since Lily died.  Sometimes it seems like she was just here an hour ago; at others, it seems like she's been gone forever... and I've been missing her the entire time.  I am so grateful for the time I had with her, and so very, very full of sadness and regret that it wasn't longer.  It takes no effort at all to remember how soft her fur felt, her warm fuzzy tummy, her messy little kisses, how her light blue eyes sparkled.  There is such a sense of unreality about it all, especially every time I'm on my way home and I realize how much she made me look forward to getting there.  Lily brightened up everything for everyone in her world-- me, Wes, and even old-man-before-his-time Goblin.  But then, the reality always catches up with us, doesn't it?


I realize I should have left these in the Gallery or put them behind a cut, but I wanted everyone to see the beautiful clarity of this special place.  We laid Lily's ashes to sleep beneath the stone, in the snow-white plastic case in which she was returned to us.  It was one of the hardest things I think either of us has ever had to do.  We built the fence and moved the choya cactus from the wild part of our property, then bought and planted the two small cacti on the other side, both of which are ready to bloom.  While we bought the white stone, Wes and I went back to the wild property part and hand-picked the soft tan and white desert quartz pieces that surround the three cacti and also serve as accents.  What's not in the photo is a solar light that I added because I can't shake the idea that if Lily wanders around out there in the night, she'll be scared if there isn't light to guide her.  She only had about 70% or so of her eyesight and stuff in the dark always startled her. I hope someday I can see her again, and that she knows how very much we love her.

...there was a little white girl with blue eyes who needed a home.

She started life as a special puppy who could not hear. No one now knows where or on what day in March 2005 she was born, or how she ended up where she did. We only know that at seven months old, the people who owned her poured gasoline on her and set her on fire. When a neighbor threatened to report them to the authorities, she suddenly found herself bargaining for the life of this horribly injured pup-- she could have the puppy if she swore she wouldn't report them. Otherwise they would kill the dog and bury her body in the desert.

So this Good Samaritan took the nameless, burned little puppy, named her Skye, and got her healed as best she could. Ultimately, she couldn't keep her-- she had never planned on being owned by a dog, much less a terribly injured Great Dane. Family problems finally made it necessary to turn thirteen-month-old Skye over to a rescue organization, where she stayed for about a month or so and was renamed Abby (even though she couldn't hear this) by the nice lady who ran the rescue.

Then along came a family looking for company for their big Merle boy, who had lost his beloved Lily only three weeks before and was having a hard and lonely time of it. Besides having a built-in big brother, they had deaf Dane experience, a big house, and extra love. So Skye-Abby became Ghost, and thus begins the tale of Goblin and The Ghost.