The Truth About Turtle Sex

I never really thought about turtle sex too much.

That changed a couple of weeks ago when Alex called me from the car on his way home and told me he had picked up a very large turtle who was walking down the street.

Because I can be a touch dimwitted, I said great. (I thought he was kidding.) Alex showed up a few minutes later with Albert, a big green turtle with sharp claws and a kind of funny looking head.

The second photo to the left is an actual picture of Albert. After seeing him up close and personal, I told Alex to put him in the fish pond. (I'm assuming he could swim, or at least I hoped so.) Realizing we actually knew absolutely nothing about turtles I thought I'd better get on the internet and look for some information. That's where I found the top photo of turtles mating.

I figured Albert got out of his habitat and was looking for a girlfriend to mate with when Alex found him. I also determined that he could have any number of weird turtle diseases and that we really were not equipped to take care of him.

Living in California, the first thing I thought of was "Turtle Rescue". (Well, in Racine, WI, they may not have anything like that, but I was betting that in the shadows of San Francisco, we did.) I was quite right! There was a "Turtle Rescue" place about 20 minutes from our home. I called the number and waited impatiently for a call back to my rather urgent request for help.

Within ten minutes, the phone rang and it was the lady from the turtle rescue. She listened to me saying that this was a very nice turtle but I really knew nothing about turtles and wanted to do what was best for him. (I also told her we had named him Albert, but she made no comment at all saying if she thought that was a good turtle name or not.)

She gave me her address and said if there was no answer to just leave it in the box outside on the porch. I hung up and thought, here is this nice woman who cares so much about turtles that she rescues them. Isn't that wonderful? I had images of a slightly plump sweet older lady with gray hair and glasses who just loved her some turtles.

Alex fished Albert out of the pond. We put him in a large tupperware container with holes in the top and a little water in the bottom. I thought he looked a little intimidated over all the handling, in fact he might have made a bit of a funny noise, but I wasn't sure. I was a little relieved to have him out of our fish pond because of those potentially deadly turtle diseases.

We drove him to the nice lady's house. The screen door was closed but the front door was open so I called in "hello" and a woman came to the door. She was about 40 and had a chicken bone hanging out of her mouth. The lady was not what I expected. She looked more like a biker woman than a turtle rescue woman.

She kept chewing on the chicken bone and said "Jerry! Get out here. The Alameda people are here with the turtle" and walked away. Jerry (her partner in turtle love?) came to the the front door with a smile that showed off his 2 or 3 remaining teeth. Hey! Jerry! Hi!

I said, "This is really interesting! You guys save turtles?" He gave me a look that said I was really dumb as in stupid, not speechless, and said "Uh, yeah." He told us what kind of a turtle Albert was and we asked him a few questions. Okay, mainly, he wanted to go back and chew on chicken bones with the turtle lady so he looked at us like we were stupid and boring.

Before we said our last goodbye to Jerry and Albert, I asked Jerry if he liked him. He said "Sure", but I'm not positive he meant it. As we drove away, Alex said "I'll bet they will just make him into some turtle soup."

Sometimes I hate Alex.

Bubble Baths and Guard Duty

Taking a bubble bath is never a private affair for me.

Harry has decided that I need protection whilst I am performing my ablutions. He parks his rather formidable self right next to the tub and watches the doorway for intruders while he looks at me with curiosity.

I do make my bath sort of an occasion. I bring my iced tea (or Diet Coke), my telephones, my husband's iPad, my Kindle, my potions, and spend the time lollygagging. Harry watches me and tries to discern why I seem so content just sitting in a tub full of bubbles and water.

Even the most circumspect of guards can only do this kind of duty for so long. Harry gets a little bored and a little tired after a half hour or so.

As a result, he stretches out on the 6 foot long bathmat for a little "catnap". Being as protective as he is can be quite exhausting as I'm sure you can imagine.

Sometimes Harry's nap determines how long I spend in my bubble bath. He is not inclined to wake up and move just because I want to get out.

We have all heard that most accidents happen in the home. And the bathroom is the most hazardous place of all. Trying to get out of a tub and step over Harry might be tricky so I usually just wait. Eventually, he wakes up and resumes his post.
With his renewed energy, it's easy for me to step on to the mat and get dried. Harry waits until he's sure I'm finished before he leaves the bathroom.

I seldom feel anxious when I bathe even though for many years after seeing the Alfred Hitchcock film "Psycho" I was unable to shower alone in house. I kept envisioning crazed killers with knives wearing mama's flowered dress.

Today I have no such anxiety.

Outgunned and Outnumbered

Can you pick out the non-Navajo in this photo?

I take the occasional trip with Alex to see the family in Arizona. We sometimes stay with Alex's mom when we go. I love my husband's family and there are a lot of them to love.

Sometimes it's hard to tell who is who because they all look a lot alike. Add to this, the Rez Navajos that sometimes come down to Phoenix from the Navajo Nation. These guys are perfectly happy camping in the backyard for a few months. When we visit, I sometimes feel like I stick out like a sore thumb.

I catch people looking at me with a kind of fascination and it's not just because of the blond hair. Sometimes I'm glad I'm not fluent in Navajo because I might get my feelings hurt if I was. If they find me "interesting", I have similar reactions to them.

Alex's mom will give me a sanitized version of things, but then takes her son off to tell him "the real deal". The two stories are usually not particularly compatible. Alex's sisters are warm and friendly to me, but I'm treated with a "protective" attitude. Girls! I can handle the truth! Really I can! Distant relatives sometimes are "squished" by machinery, and I'm told they had a little accident. (Yes, I hate the idea of anyone being "squished" but I could be told that too.)

If I answer the phone when Alex's family members call, I'm told everything is "fine". Then Alex gets on the phone and his side of the conversation consists of "Oh no!" "Oh my God!" "Is he all right?' "Oh no!" "Did the police come?" "Oh no!" "You're kidding! Oh my God!" After 20 minutes or so of this, the phone call ends.

I ask Alex, "What's going on?" He tells me, "Nothing. Everybody's fine."

Go figure!

Knocked Up and Prickly

This is something of a miracle.

For the last 10 years, my ugly cactus has gotten pregnant once a year and had one gorgeous but short-lived bloom.

The cactus usually gets one large pink flower that lasts for 24 hours per year. The rest of the time, it's a hateful looking plant with all its sharp thorns and weeds that somehow manage to grow in there with the thorns. I've thought about throwing it in the green recycle bin more than once.

I don't even know where the cactus came from since I am not a fan. It was probably here when we moved in ten years ago. I think there is something alien-like about cactus plants. I try to carefully pluck the weeds out of it once in a while, and I have bled profusely every time I attempt the pruning. I swear these pricks are purely evil.

This year, a miracle birth occurred. The plant developed nine long phallic looking protrusions with red tips. About two days later, we had a multiple birth. This was the first time I've ever seen more than one flower appear on it.

I'm wondering if this has to do with global warming. It could also be the result of California's extreme rainfall this year. Of course, it could also be related to hyperactive sexuality in the planter. (I'm just glad that my own occasional hyperactive sexuality never resulted in anything remotely similar.)

Whatever it was, the showy display is over now for another year. I guess I can't toss the plant now, can I?

"You Could Go Work With Blind Kids Or Something"

My husband, Alex, left on a trip today.

Before he left, he asked me "What are you going to do while I'm gone, Honey?" I looked at him and said "I'm going to put on my robe." He sort of laughed and said, "Other people think you're kidding when you say that, but I know better." Uh huh. He does. I just looked at him.

Then Alex says "You could go work with blind kids or something." I nearly fell on the floor laughing. Where does he get this stuff?

Don't get me wrong. Working with blind kids would be a noble thing to do, I guess. But why blind kids? I have never expressed a desire to go work with blind kids.

Finally, Alex clued me in. That was a line that Al Pacino used to his wife in the movie "Scarface". Pacino's wife sat around all day doing coke and he said she should go work with blind kids or something.

Very funny, Alex!

The Bad Decision Queen

Congressman Anthony Weiner has nothing on me.

I sort of feel for the guy. Yeah, he did something stupid and impulsive. I've done stupid and impulsive things all my life.

Keeping explicit "love notes" from my boyfriend at the home I shared with my husband is one good example. (No, no, not this husband, another one.)

Making out with my Pakistani English Professor three days before I got married was another little judgment lapse. (But I wasn't married yet, and no, not this husband either.)

Getting a boyfriend drunk and taking all of his money when he passed out was probably not the nicest thing I ever did either. All I can say is that it was stupid and impulsive and I was bad. It was nobody's fault that I did bad things except my own.

Inappropriate emails! Oh Good Golly, Miss Molly! I've sent my share. And I've received my share too. I can't claim to have sent photos of my crotch, unless you count the occasional upskirt.

Now on the other side of the coin, I help people who need help. I am good to little kids and old people. And I love my dogs.

Anthony Weiner has been a shining star in his efforts to help the downtrodden and he has done a lot for the people who put him in office. I saw the famous photo of him in his jockey shorts, and honestly, I don't think it was that big a deal. Was it being stupid? Yeah, probably. But give me someone stupid about naughty photos who tries to do the right thing about the important stuff any day of the week. Weiner's career may be over because of this mess, but I hope it isn't.

He's a good guy.

Nigerian Sailors!

My cleaning lady Maria has a daughter.

Marina is 20 years old and a Jennifer Lopez look-alike. She's a shy, charming and lovely person.

Marina works at the Exchange at Coast Guard Island in Alameda. We saw her last weekend and she told us about being "harassed" by Nigerian sailors currently posted at Coast Guard Island. Apparently, these sailors are on a ship given to the Nigerian Navy by the U.S. Coast Guard.

We were concerned about Marina. She seemed to really feel that the sailors had been overly aggressive in trying to talk to her and wanting to take her photo. Marina is a very protected young woman and not used to obvious attention from men despite her beauty.

Today, Alex and I went to Coast Guard Island to run the dogs and pick up some supplies at the Exchange. While we were there, we saw dozens of young Nigerian sailors walking around. I am not sure I've ever seen better looking men! They are very attractive people.

While I can appreciate Marina feeling intimidated by them, all I can say is that I'm not sure why. These guys may get a little close to you when they talk to you, but so what! They may ask to take your photo and tell you that you are pretty, but so what! They are normal and healthy young men.

Two of the Nigerian guys were coming on base as we were leaving today. They were talking and laughing with each other as they walked. I grinned and waved at them and they grinned and waved back at me as we passed! Oh, no. I have no problem with Nigerian sailors at all! Actually, I'm kind of delighted to have them here in Alameda for a while. They certainly brighten up the landscape!

I've always been a sucker for a uniform.