Summer Here

Summer here?

It's messy, muddy, grimy. It's all boy.


Our summer is in our backyard. We spend a lot of time back there. It's not perfect. It would make Martha Stewart curl into a ball and cry 'Hold me!' Toys everywhere. Some broken. A pool my child won't go in. Grass that is in need of a mow. Half eaten dog toys.

Yeah, it's not exactly classy.


But you know what else it has? Memories. And I kind of love that. Dirt and all.

For more summer, breeze on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry for You Capture.

Hibernation

So, yeah. We don't go outside much in winter here (the beautiful Pacific Northwest). It has poured rain for days.

What do we do during winter?

We hang on the couch in our jammies. We hibernate, till winter is over.

See? Even the dog doesn't want to go outside. It's nasty out there.

For more You Capture winter, head on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry.

'P' Fix

Yesterday, I noticed the 'p' key on my computer was sticky. As in, I had to mash it down with all my might to type a 'p'. Eventually, I avoided words containing 'p'. Logical, no?

Last night I was leading the Tworkout (twitter workout, cleverness!) for the Sisterhood during the Biggest Loser and the 'p' issue was coming to a head. It's probably not advisable to bang a key with your fist, but I was getting to that point.

This morning, I said to myself, 'Self - there has got to be a way to fix this 'p' roblem.' I googled 'how to fix a sticky key.' And a multitude of information poured forth. I chose e-How and within a few seconds, had a strategy. By strategy, I mean I popped the key off with my fingernail, blew the disgusting detritus that had built up away, and popped the key back on.

Yeah, I'm pretty handy like that.

I love the Internet. You can find a fix to ANYTHING.

Like a few months ago, I came home from shopping and realized the store had forgotten to remove the security tag from something I'd bought. GAH. Usually, not a huge issue, but it was something I'd purchased specifically for a trip, and we were leaving the next morning. I didn't have the time to go back to the store for proper removal.

Enter Internet. Within minutes, I'd found a YouTube video demonstrating how to remove security tags using two sets of pliers. No damage to the clothes. Awesome. And probably made for and totally intended for use by juvenile delinquents.

Whatever. It worked.

And the best one Internet fix yet? Homemade salve for dog ear infections (our golden retreiver has chronic ear infections - we've spent probably a grand at the vet - and the vet has yet to come up with a better solution). One tube monistat, one tube polysporin, and one tube cortaid. My cousin actually told me about this one, and I'm about to mix some up and try it - I'm at my wit's end with the vet bills and infection. Poor dog!

See? The internet's for more than blogging and playing Bejeweled...

Guess What?

I haven't decorated the tree yet.

Oh wait. We don't even have a tree yet...

I haven't done any Christmas shopping except for G-Rex. Even though I spent eight hours shopping yesterday with Tiff and Jenn. By the way, I think I want to live in Toys R Us. I must have been deprived of toys as a kid because I couldn't tear myself away from the Little People, Playmobil or Imaginext. I am STILL waiting for my Barbie Dream House (my friend Andrea had the sweetest Barbie setup as kids. And I'm pretty sure we were still playing Barbies till we were twelve or so. My mom didn't like me to have Barbies, so I needed my fix. This is the longest aside, ever. Shoot.).

I haven't managed to get all the vacation laundry put away yet. I have this lofty goal of cleaning out the closets before I store everything, and making a trip to Goodwill. But as of right now, it looks like all my closets threw up.

I have not done any Christmas baking. Or crafts. Probably a good thing about the baking, because I kind of have a problem with baked goods. As in, they seem to attach directly to my ass.

I am all sorts of disorganized and unmotivated right now.

But, I have kept running. I HAVE TO. Because I have committed to run a freaking half marathon in June. The San Diego Rock and Roll 1/2, with Team in Training (more on that later). So, fear of humiliation and vomiting during the race is my motivation there. Whatever works. Plus, I finally get to meet my girls from the Sisterhood in the flesh. It's going to be stellar. I seriously cannot wait.

I have been reading. Vacation reading, my favorite. I read Push (the novel the movie Precious is based on) in two hours. It made my heart hurt. Don't get me wrong, I completely and wholeheartedly recommend it, but it was gutwrenching.

On the other end of the spectrum, I read both of Chelsea Handler's books, My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One Night Stands and Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea. I LOVE HER. Anybody who can make me belly laugh in public whilst reading is good, very good. Just a warning. If you are easily offended by sex, language, sex, drinking, equal opportunity racial profiling, sex or bodily functions, you may not like her books. They're like reading the diary of your crazy college roommate. Because I never did anything in college in a drunken stupor that was completely stupid. No, not me.

Tomorrow, I will go pick up my Christmas cards, which I managed to design and order online today. I will go to the god awful post office and buy stamps.

Perhaps, if I can completely channel Martha Stewart (or at least Rachael Ray), I will bake some sugar cookies to decorate.

And I will keep them far away from the dogs.

Ball? Ball?

Things have been kind of topsy-turvy around here lately. Our current normal is not our usual normal.

But some things never change.



A ball and a dog. I lament how stupid Carl is sometimes. But to be so unabashedly happy about a game of catch? Pretty sweet.

Something else that is real about this picture? The state of our backyard...toys everywhere. Oy.

For more real life, take a jaunt over to I Should Be Folding Laundry and check out some more You Capture posts.

Doggy Family Tree

If you read much, you probably have figured out I have a love/hate relationship with our dogs. Mostly hate. Except I have to admit that when B was out of town, I very much appreciated the extra security.

We know Carl is a purebred Golden Retriever. We have a genealogy chart and everything. Plus, I think he is horribly inbred, if not simply from the fact that he is dumb as a box of rocks, but also all his many hereditary 'issues'.

Sadie, on the other hand, is some kind of mixed breed monstrosity. When we rescued her (I say rescued because ohmylord the place she came from was heinous), we were told Husky and Golden Retriever. Now, having actually owned a Golden, we know there is no way she has one trace of that breed running through her veins. The Husky is obvious, but the rest is a mystery.

We've hypothecated Border Collie, as they are known for their incessant obnoxiousness and need to be busy at all times. Our vet thought maybe German Shepard for her coloring. My guess was a descendant of Cujo.

So I have to admit I was very intrigued when watching the local news the other night and a story came on about doggy DNA testing.

You heard me.

The prices range greatly, but most land around $100. A completely frivolous spend, but I am SO tempted.

Maybe I'm hoping that some breed will pop up on the test that will explain everything. The big AHA! But I'm guessing the test doesn't detect Hellhound.

Highlander Dog

Our dog Sadie, she's indestructible. I can't count how many times she probably should have died. Seriously.

But, for some reason, she cannot be hurt. It is impossible.

She is the Highlander dog (talking about the movie and not the Toyota here).

For Sadie, we have coined the phrase 'three day rule'. If she is hurt or sick, we wait three days before taking her to the vet (before anyone gets upset, we would OF COURSE take her to the vet if she were in dire need of care. DUH.). For instance, she has been scratched on the eyeball by our cats more times than I'd care to remember. She yelps, and comes whining up to B or me, one eye closed and watering. Then she'll walk around wonk eyed for maybe a day. AND THEN SHE IS FINE. Every. Single. Time.

One time, B took her up on some mountain bike trails. Suddenly he heard this crazy dog screeching in the distance. He took off to find her and she couldn't walk. She would put no weight on her front right leg.

So he's up this mountain, thinking, I'm going to have to carry this fifty pound dog down, on my shoulders, and somehow get the bike down too.

As he's working out the logistics, he notices she's limping around. Five minutes later she's back chasing forest creatures like she's on doggie crack.

Well, yesterday, I was giving G his after dinner bath (dinner is a contact sport and ALWAYS requires thorough bathing afterwards). I might add that he pooped in the tub. AGAIN. I've had to bleach out the tub and tub toys 6 out of the last ten baths. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sadie.

So, I fish out he poop, get G cleaned and dried. Then I let him run naked out to the living room while I get his diaper and jammies.

It is when I return to the living room that I notice that a large dark chocolate bar that I had purchased that afternoon was sitting in the middle of the living room.

Let me rephrase that. The WRAPPER from the chocolate bar is sitting in the living room.

I quickly diaper the kid, because I don't need him peeing all over the living room - I'd had enough of his bodily functions for one night.

I then drop to my knees and pull open both dogs jaws to take a whiff. Who had eaten the chocolate? Whoever it was had to have stuck their snout into my barely open purse, jimmied the zipper open a bit more and pulled out the chocolate.

It was clearly Sadie (I was kind of relieved. If it was Carl, I'd be telling you that we had to drop a grand at the emergency vet). Carl is way too special needs to pull off that maneuver. Plus, her breath reeked of dog food and chocolate.

I quickly googled how much chocolate is dangerous, and found that she had not ingested nearly enough.

But then I remembered.

It was a chocolate RAISIN bar.

Did you know that raisins are highly toxic to dogs? Well, they are.

Panic attack then recommences. I called B.

He was not concerned. 'This is Sadie we're talking about. The highlander dog. We'll watch her, but I'm sure she's fine.'

And of course, he was right.

She is outside right now, being her usual pain in the ass self.

One of these days, dog, one of these days. Or maybe she'll outlive us all and we'll have to call her Duncan MacLeod.

Poop and Farts - My Life with Boys.

I once worked for a man who said: "It's funny when you're three and it's still funny when you're eighty-three."

He was referring to bodily functions.

In the last two days, I have been farted at and on (YES ON) and I don't know quite how to say this - it was not by my child. Ahhh. Romance! Nothing quite says 'I love you' like being pinned to the ground and forcibly flatulated (is that a word) on. And it's even better when your toddler looks on with glee, clapping his hands and cackling like a little imp.

Even our male dog farts at me. Carl somehow can aim his tush right at me and ready...aim...fire. Seriously. These things call for gas masks.

Conversation from last night:

B and I looking at each other.
"Was that you?"
"No. I was going to ask you the same thing."
Simultaneously look down at Carl sprawled out on the floor.
"I guess I shouldn't have fed him that left over garlic butter..."

And to cap it all off, G seriously had the most offensive, atrocious poop last night. I was feeding him dinner and he started grunting and pushing. I wasn't too alarmed, I figured it was just a normal poop.

Oh no. Oh Lord no.

I knew I was in trouble when I pulled him out of the highchair and I could see it SEEPING UP HIS ONESIE.

I had already run his bath so we proceeded to the bathroom. Where I pulled down his jeans to discover the poo had also escaped his diaper at the leg holes and had traveled down his legs and to his socks. Damn you Pampers!

At this point, I called in reinforcements. B brought me about 40 wipes and almost barfed. He had to leave the scene of the crime.

All the while, G is happily singing to himself, trying to grab at his nasty diaper and then touch every surface in the bathroom. I peeled off his clothes, threw them in the toilet, wiped off the CHUNKS and into the bath he went.

The clothes required about five minutes of swirling and flushing. And it was still sticking. I'm praying that my high tech washer lives up to its promises.

So, I guess this is my life now. Bodily functions.

I need to bone up of the fart jokes, stat.

Tightwad Tuesday: DIY Dog Grooming

We have a Golden Retriever, Carl.
He is absolutely beautiful until you get up close. And man, does he smell.
This morning, I'd had it. Dog hair everywhere, and the dirt that comes inside with it. Gross!
My husband cuts his own hair, so I thought hey, I'll give the clippers a try.
And lo and behold, it worked wonderfully. Though, for the sake of being sanitary, for future grooming, I'll probably invest in a pair of clippers for the dog only - something like this.

Here's what I did:
- Gathered all my tools - clippers, a pair of scissors, a dog brush (I love my Furminator, it is amazing), ear cleaner, paper towels
- Coaxed Carl out to the garage, where I clipped him to his lead and tethered him to an object heavier than he is - my husband's weight bench with a bunch of weights stacked on top.
- Went over his coat thoroughly with the comb.
- Buzzed him with a #3 guard.
- Used the scissors to trim around his toes
- Cleaned out his ears with ear cleaning solution and paper towels.
- Gave him a treat for being such a good boy!

I would have bathed him as well but this process took a good hour and I was filthy and exhausted. But he looks SO much better. And once you've invested in the tools and done the grooming yourself a few times, it sure beats a $50-$75 trip to the groomer.

However, I will not be learning how to express anal glands. That, my friends, I will leave to the professionals.

OMG. LOL. LMFAO. Etc, Etc.

I was over on Dooce today and saw this site - I Can Has Cheezburger.
If you are as into utter silliness as I am, please check it out.
Why are cats and dogs with captions so funny, will someone please tell me?

Dogs 4 Sale!

I swear that one day, B will come home from work and the dogs will be gone. I'll have posted them on Craigslist and someone will come pick them up. I will most likely have to pay someone to take them away. I have a love/hate relationship with the dogs. More hate now that we have a child. It's so cliche and I thought I wouldn't be one of those people who gets rid of the animals once a baby enters the picture but believe me, the thought has crossed my mind. We have two dogs. Sadie, a husky/demon mix, and Carl, our special needs Golden Retriever.
We picked up Sadie the day we got engaged. We'd been trying to get a rescue dog but the Humane Society where we lived would not adopt to us because we both worked and the dog would be alone during the day. Apparently it is better to be unemployed and unable to afford to care for a dog...but I digress. We found Sadie on Craigslist and she was advertised as a husky/golden mix. I called and she was the last one left. This should have been a sign. But we REALLY wanted a pup, so we made the hour long drive up to this place called Paradise (which, if you've ever been there, you know it is the most ironic place name EVER). She was living in a fenced in kennel attached to a rusted out mobile home from the 70's. The breeder was, how shall I say this - tooth challenged. Sadie was filthy and scared. It truly did feel like a rescue. She was mild mannered and timid for about two days. Then she morphed into what our doggie daycare dubbed 'Crazy Sadie.' Sadie went through obedience training, but it never took. I suppose it was more to train us, but again, it never took. She is now five years old and still out of control.
Carl came into the picture when we moved to our current home. We knew we would be working longer days (as our commutes both increased by about an hour) so we thought it would be a good idea to get a companion for Sadie. Oh boy, were we ever wrong. We found Carl from a breeder on the other side of the state. We picked him up in February of 2006. As most Goldens are, he is the sweetest dog. However, Sadie hates and terrorizes him. The result of this is a 100 pound, dumb as a rock dog that is scared of EVERYTHING. He was stuck in our living room all night once because one of G's toys was too scary to pass by.
Not to mention the fact that Carl has had so many bizarre medical problems we've paid ten times more in vet bills than what we originally paid for him. He broke his toe when he was six months old requiring a splint for six weeks. I learned how to wrap the injury on my own after he stepped in his water dish for the fourth time. We had to have him spayed and neutered - he has a congenital defect which meant one of his boy parts did not descend. And, he has chronic ear infections.
I really do love my dogs, but there are days when Carl's high pitched whining and Sadie throwing herself at the back door starts to grate. Especially since this behavior is limited to the times when G is napping.
And the mess - did I mention the mess? The shedding, the dirt...well, it's enough to make a girl lose her mind.
Why don't I post them in the classifieds? Because they are amazing with G. Patient and gentle, and G absolutely adores them.
So, for now, the dogs stay.

You Capture: Week Two - Perspective

This weeks challenge/assignment? Perspective. I wasn't quite sure where to go with this so I wandered outside with the camera. When I came inside, I had this:



You might think this was shot at night? Full moon maybe?
Well, it was taken at around 10 am. Seriously- that ball in the sky is the sun. And they wonder why so many people suffer from SAD around here (seasonal affective disorder).

I couldn't resist adding this one - from the perspective of a tennis ball.


Check out other perspectives on - ahem - perspective here.

Little Good Things

Today could have been a very bad day.
But somehow, it turned out just fine.
The day started out a little shaky. B had been out by the natural gas meter on the side of the house and smelled gas. We knew that we needed to get it checked out, but I was convinced that the gas company would somehow charge us some 'emergency' fee. With dread, I called the gas leak hot line and explained that it was probably not a big deal, it was probably just a tiny leak. The friendly, competent woman I spoke with assured me someone would be out shortly and there would be no charge. And that all gas leaks were a big deal.
While I was on the phone, I heard Carl (our big dumb golden retreiver) whining at the back door. I went to the sliding door and opened it, shushing Carl - George was down for a nap. Then I noticed something strange. Sadie, our very needy husky mix, wasn't crawling over Carl to get to me. I called her. Nothing. I called her again. Same. I went to the side of the house and the side gate was open. I knew for certain the gate was shut because I had been on that side of the house earlier sniffing for gas. So, my creepily intelligent dog had opened the gate on her own.
I tried to stay calm, but she has escaped before and ended up down in doggie jail, requiring a $75 bailout. I closed the gate so Carl couldn't escape (why he didn't before I'm not sure) and went out to the front.
"Saaaa-dieeeee! Here Sadie, come on Sadie!" How embarrassing. And she was nowhere to be found. I tried to sound as inviting as possible, I knew she wouldn't come back if she felt my voice was even a little bit threatening. I called for about five minutes. Still no Sadie. Then I decided to call Carl instead. Sadie can not handle Carl getting attention. It's her kryptonite.
"Caaaarl! Car ride, Carl."
Sadie reappeared, galloping up the road at record speed.
I was nice to her, and didn't even scold. I was just happy she was back and not in the back of the animal control van or smashed on the road somewhere.
So, back to the gas company. Sure enough, less than an hour later two guys showed up and there was definitely a leak. They fixed it quickly and even came in the house to restart my furnace and hot water heater. And they again assured me there would be no charge. I'm still in disbelief.
Another highlight? I discovered the business Costco just down the road. It's much closer to our house than the regular Costco and doesn't have all the tempting books, movies, kids clothes, et cetera. Much easier to get out without overspending.
As I write this I realize I sound INCREDIBLY LAME. But seriously, it's probably one of the better days I've had in a while. So I'll take it at face value. And hope the gas company doesn't send a surprise bill.

HEEEEEERE'S HEATHER!

Pardon the totally cheesy reference to The Shining. But I have been cooped up in the house for almost five days, save my harried trip to Albertsons last night during which I was under a 20 minute time constraint as the husband wanted to hurry home before the 'storm' hit. Which it did, kind of. We didn't lose power thankfully, which is somewhat of a miracle around here. Homeowners in our neighborhood don't like their tree branches trimmed around power lines, which leads to at least a few lengthy power outages a year.
So, I'm kind of feeling like Jack Torrance about now. The homicidal part, no, but the crazy part, yes. The house is feeling even smaller than usual, the Christmas clutter is expanding exponentially, and stuff is really starting to get to me. Like last night, when we made our one outing in days, I left the sugar cookies I'd slaved over on the counter to cool. Four dozen of them. And when we came home, I had two guilty looking doggies and about four TOTAL cookies left. Okay, I guess at this point I might had been homicidal. Dogicidal, really. I yelled at the dogs and then the husband laughed at me and I burst into tears.
This morning, I put the dogs out because they were driving me nuts and I could smell their breath. Our golden retriever, Carl, came back in with clumps of snow stuck in his wings (you know, that fur that flares out on their legs) and I just KNEW it was going to end up melted all over the house in little puddles. I grabbed the closest pair of scissors and bribed Carl to roll over onto his back with a dog bone. And I went to work. Ten minutes later Carl had a new haircut. I cut off his golden retriever wings. It's not pretty. I will never be a dog groomer. Now I kind of feel guilty and feel like I should just finish off the job with electric clippers. If I'm stuck in this house another day, I can pretty much guarantee that will happen. ( A side note, I do not have photos at this time as my camera has no battery charge, but I will upload one when I find the charger!).
I just looked outside and its snowing again. I can't remember a snow like this since at least 12 years ago. It was the winter after I graduated high school. Why do I remember it so vividly? I got my car stuck in my parents driveway, and then proceeded to put my Dad's truck in the ditch trying to get to work. So if any one's wondering why I'm not a fan of snow, there you go. It's the driving thing.
On a positive note, my son's first Christmas will most likely have snow. That there, folks, is pretty cool and worth the craziness!