If You See A Dog in Green Plastic Booties

Inspired by the book “If You Give A Mouse A Cookie” and Dr. Suess

My Plight

If you see a dog wearing green plastic booties,

You will stare and stare like it’s your most important duty.

You will think, “Wow. They’re like mini shower caps. Look at that!”




You will trip over a speed bump and crash to the ground,

In a left, straight-arm tackle on top of that mound.

Your face will be safe but your body prostrate,

And the stuff in your bag, is all over the place.

Crime Scene

The man with the dog will extend a leather-gloved hand,

You will grab hold so you can once again stand.

“Hey. We’ve all been there.” He says non-plussed

He has no idea that his green-bootie-clad dog could cause such a fuss.


You will shake off the pain; blink back the tears.

You will shop anyway since you are here.

With the new welcome mat and mug made of chrome,

You slide into your car and head for home.


Your hands on the wheel, you will gasp and squeal,

“What is the deal?!?”

“My God! My arm hurts a lot!”

You will hope you are not, in a god-awful spot.


You will give up swimming and weight lifting too.

Your family cries, “Moms are infallible. No crying Boo Hoo!”.

You will stamp your feet and say, “C’mon guys!”

They will rise from the couch with a roll of their eyes.


After practicing swim strokes in the air,

You will believe you can swim, “I’m so there!”

Two strokes in the pool, the pain is too great.

“Darn it! I cannot believe my fate!”


Coach Mike will teach you to swim the proper way.

“This is an opportunity!” That’s what he’ll say.

One arm is better than none,

You will do what it takes to get the workout done.


You will visit the doc, “Bursitis! PT for you!”

“But I’m not OLD! I’m confused!”

“It can happen to anyone. Tennis players too.”



After seven weeks in PT,

The therapist cries, “Geez,“

“I smell a rat!

You tore something. I’m sure of that!”


An MRI will show a torn rotator cuff,

bone spurs and other stuff.

Now it’s surgery, surgery for you.

It’s ok to let out a big BOO HOO!


“Six weeks in A BIG FAT SLING!” You repeat the horrible news.

It doesn’t sound good from the doc or you.


“No workouts! My oh my, you’re gonna die!”

Hubby does not lie.


One month to plan and prepare,

You clear the clutter in the house that had always been there.

After fifteen years, Why now?

You will act like you are having a baby or just having a cow!


You plan the cutest possible tops and bottoms to go with A BIG FAT SLING.

You discover THE GAP has EVERYTHING!

Feminine flannels, glam pajamas and snap-front bras with pretty lace!

How on earth did I miss this place!?!


“Coach is right! This is an OPPORTUNITY!” you say.

“By God, I will celebrate with a shopping day!”


The house is scrubbed from bottom to top.

No worries for Hubby! You worked A LOT!

Ready at last.

“Let’s get it over with fast!”


“Do you have anything to ask?” offers the surgeon with a mask.


“Yes! Did you eat lunch?”

I had a nervous hunch.

“I’m ready! Nice and jittery.” He jokingly dared.

“Great! Just what I like in a surgeon!” You say with a piercing glare.


Next thing you know,

Hubby is driving you home.

Your arm is neatly folded into THE BIG FAT SLING,

Your wardrobe pal, for a six-week fling.


After just one week,

You will find the journey isn’t so bleak.

Except at night, the sling like trap,

Feels like hugging a big fat bike rack.


Then you will say, “I just need one more cute thing!”


You will glue sparkly part by sparkly part,

To make a gloriously glittery new heart!


“To think, none of this would be

if I kept my eyes in front of me.”


So if you see a dog in green plastic booties,

Be careful, or you might trip big, a real doozy.

Sling Selfie: Sling Bling*

copyright protected.

Share on Facebook

The Night I Met A Famous Jazz Artist

There I was, standing in the lobby of the Hotel Belleclaire in New York City, late on a Saturday night. My friend was checking us into our room while I stood with our luggage making new friends everywhere I could. Something about travel makes me giddy, like too much champagne. I’m not afraid to chat…

Share on Facebook

The Gift at 50: The Cha-Cha Check

At age 50 comes an invitation to own a shiny red AARP card, party hardy for a night and The Cha-Cha Check, aka, colonoscopy. “Cha-cha” is a cutesy euphemism my sister used for her hospital job for delicate parts and I rather like it in this delicate situation. Yes, in an off-hand way, it could…

Share on Facebook

Pretty Special Delivery Guys

  I’ve got a guy, actually two guys. The dynamic duo I’m talking about deliver appliances with class and swagger. I know because a slow trickle of machines, fridges, ovens and things streamed into my house in the last month. The same ultra cool guys helped me update my kitchen bit by bit. We started…

Share on Facebook

Proper Coffee Shop Talk

Coffee shops have become my office. I like to write there because I can really focus most of the time and my soy lattes come with a swirly heart. No laundry is screaming to distract me, nor cookies begging to be eaten. When I leave the house to write, I say to Hubby, “I’m heading…

Share on Facebook

Happiness Is Going To The Dump

We had a pile of junk in our garage. Nobody wanted to drive it to the dump. Not me nor hubby and no surprise, not even my college son home for spring break wanted to drive to the dump. I thought maybe, my son and I could partner. ‘Ya know, give us a little one-on-one…

Share on Facebook

When Your Friend Wants You To Love Cleaning

One of my favorite mantras: Life is too short for a clean house. The only problem, it’s not a forever statement. I could be reported to CPA or a Department of Health Agency but I wouldn’t let it get that far. After awhile, the dust, grime and clutter make me bonkers and I’m forced to…

Share on Facebook

Glamorous Chicken Wings for the Oscars

One of my favorite times of the year is Oscar Night. A girlfriend is kind enough to host every year, cooking up fancy nibbles to eat with sparkling wine.  We dress in comfy clothes, maybe adding a sparkly bracelet or necklace to feel movie-star-esque. I bring my own Oscar chair: a bright red bean bag so…

Share on Facebook

When You Bring A Bowl of Soup To A Neighbor

I live in a mixed generation neighborhood. If you want to see babies in a stroller, they live here. If you want to pretend little boys are not hiding in your bushes for hide-and-seek, they live here. If you want a teenage babysitter or a teenage driver, gulp, they live here. We have the middle-aged…

Share on Facebook

Cool Gift Idea for Movie Lovers

  Movie season to me is from Christmas to the end of February.  The announcements for nominees for The Golden Globes and The Oscars motivate me and my friends to go to the theater about once a week to cover all the Best Picture films.  And if any are out while I visit in Colorado, my…

Share on Facebook