Ghost in the Canine

I'm watching Brodie stare into space.

It almost seems as if she can see some plane that we cannot, where things dance and intermingle freely. It is all around us, this plane, and right now she has tapped into it.

She is totally out of it, and when she does look to me, she is scared.

Perhaps my house is haunted after all.

Who needs sleep?

5am on Monday morning. I'm wide awake and have been since about 3:30am. It seems to happen every night. No matter how late I go to bed. 3:30 rolls around and nudges me hard enough to make me sit up, scratch my head and then not be able to fall back asleep after I go pee.

Tonight I'm up because I followed my dog around the house for a couple of hours. Yesterday afternoon Brodie had some sort of, shall we say, "episode," where she basically looked like she was hyperventilating herself into a seizure. Tail between her legs, she was apoplectic. Shaking, panting, and just an utter mess. She was like that for an hour or so and I decided she needed to go to the emergency clinic.

These things always happen on Sundays with us. Or so it seems.

Four hours later and no real diagnosis, we brought her home sedated. She stood in the middle of the livingroom and looked at us, swaying back and forth with a confused look on her face. I got her to get up on the couch, and she passed out. Shallow breathing, out cold. I watched her until Midnight when she woke up and decided to go up to my bedroom. She was confused because the door was closed, so I ushered her in and got her to the doggie bed. Three hours later she was pacing, panting, and I thought "great, here we go again..." I took her out to pee, which she did... and then she spent the better part of 90 minutes walking in circles in the livingroom, going out to the kitchen, coming back in, going back out. Wash, rinse, repeat.

She is now asleep behind the couch, by the fish tank, where Gonzo usually spends his days. And I am watching the sky lighten.

In addition to worrying about Brodie, I am also worried about how we're going to pay for college. I cannot apply for a student loan thanks to an ongoing issue with Bank of Asserica (cough). I thought for sure by now Doug's grandmother's estate would be ironed out and we could tap into funds there. So I don't know how I am going to send the University of P'bgh a ton of dough in the next 13 days to ensure Jess goes there without difficulty. And my mortgage situation isn't fixed (referencing the ongoing issue with that evil bank). So I wake up most nights at awful small wee hours and have that on my mind.

The good thing is, I've got a theme song... as does every person who cannot sleep. Thanks to BNL.

On that note, I'm going to crawl back upstairs. Doug will be up in about 15 minutes to get ready for work and if Brodie is still asleep down here he can keep an ear out for her. I'm going to try and rest.

Have a good day.

Yet... another... category four kill storm

You may be wondering just where the hell have I been?

Monday, yesterday, today, and Friday I am Catering Girl. Faithful and loyal sidekick to Catering Man. Preparing Crab Duexelle Mushroom Caps and Canapes. Wrapping baskets of tastefully assorted crackers. Skewering artichoke hearts and chicken strips, breading them and making them shine as only a handmade appetizer can.

He's had no business for weeks, and now -- boom. Holiday parties up the ying yang. They changed their policy where they won't cater anything smaller than 50 people, so all the jobs are bigassed. The smallest one was tonight, and it was a favor to a customer who only needed hors d'ouevres for 30, and they only needed them dropped off, no serving staff or anything. So that's easy money for Cateringman.

I hadn't worked for him for weeks, and forgot everything. Today I screwed up the premixing of salt and pepper by using hand cracked black pepper instead of table grind.

Duh?

Anyway. It's been fun working again, and I'm nowhere near as sore as I was when I started working for him this past spring. I missed Lisa and Chris. The dishwasher Hodgie makes me laugh my ass off. Mr. Mysogynist is gone -- he took a job as a regional sales rep for a company based out of Texas, so he moved. Chris and I have a side bet on when he'll come back after the sales weasel money dries up and the company goes out of business (like the last one he worked for).

Cateringman will keep us all busy for a couple of weeks and then whamo -- it'll all stop until April. He's going to Aruba for a while, and then Tuscany for most of the month of March. Must be nice, eh? [grin].

He deserves it though -- he works hard running the business and riding my ass about not wrapping things tightly enough or not chopping evenly enough. The business has grown like mad, thanks in no part to me, and he deserves a big break.

Yesterday I cut my left thumb to shit, for the first time in months and months I injured myself at work. I was fine chopping scallions for the pasta station, and had the bunch of scallions pinched together tightly in my left fingers... chop chop chop chop. Ouch, God Bless America!!! I clipped the inside of my thumb (closest part to the index finger) with the butt end of the knife, which in Cateringman land is just as sharp as the tip.

I'm hardcore though. I busted ass and worked through the pain. And seeing as I've been saving the world in time for the buffet to be served, I've been a tired little girl. I was grumpy when I got home. Doug let me take a nap in the bedroom (normally he retires to the boudoir but this time stayed on the couch and watched TV and snoozed) and he ordered pizza. So effectively I had the night off from being mom. A beer and "24" later I felt a bit better, but I slept like the dead last night.

There hasn't been much to report. I have no witty anecdotes, haven't done any Christmas shopping. We still don't know if Doug's parents will be coming up to join us for Christmas or not, so I don't know what to plan for the holiday. It's kind of frustrating, because I have 2 weeks to pull Christmas out of my big fat ass for everyone.

I still haven't heard from the college job. I got called by a recruiting agency who found my resume on Monster.com and wanted further info on where I was looking to work, salary requirement, etc. So that was kind of nice.

---

Friends of ours got a new dog. They already have a schnauzer, and had a bulldog too but due to some aggressive behavior problems and somewhat unpredictable biting they gave him up to some folks in New Hampshire who would be better equipped to deal with him.. Both of them were devastated, to say the least, to give away their baby. He was a good dog -- but something recently screwed with his mind and altered his perceptions of small people (ie kids...). Seeing as they were bummed, they decided they needed another puppy. This is Carrie's Christmas Present:

Meet Axel.

I had suggested Figgis as a name. A friend of mine named her dog Figgis (a Boxer) and it is just the funnest name to say. "C'mere, Figgisssssss" it just sounds so funny. But they changed their minds when they met him. He is SO CUTE! I can't wait to go get some puppy love from him. Look at that little face, and that nose. Oy. To die for. Love him. Eat him up yum.

Not that my dog isn't good enough or something... Jack rules. And he's still a puppy so he's still got that puppy sweetness about him. New puppies and new babies just make me melt.

So a special welcome here to Mr. Axel. Be good to your momma and dadda, wouldya?

---

Speaking of being good, right now I'd like to draw attention to my sister. She hates when I do this... but I feel the need.

I was talking to Aaron and he said that he didn't have a camera to take with him to Antarctica. If I were working full time, I'da bought him a camera that day, but I am concerned with our finances over the next couple of weeks and months, so I couldn't just run out and buy him one. And I didn't want to LOAN him my camera, because I use it all the damn time. I'm lost without it.

So I called my sister.

She has a digicam, and she doesn't use it too too much. I figured she may be willing to loan it to him.

Not only was she willing to loan the digicam, but she also told me she has an Advantix camera so he can take cool panoramic shots of Antarctica where he'll be, so she threw that in. And, she is throwing in a couple rolls of film.

AND she offered to have him send her the film to get it developed where she goes because she's got some super discount dealie thing.

So, let's recap here -- sister asked for small favor of loaning camera. Returns with far more than expected response in the form of two cameras and some mother fucking film. Goes beyond that with offer to develop for discount.

She is, by far, the NICEST PERSON EVER. I was floored by her willingness to help out and her total givingnessnessness. She Rules.

So all bow down and worship the kindhearted, wonderwoman -- Linda!

I know I will.

---

Another class four death storm is approaching, although we may just get a mixy rainy thing out of the deal. A bit further inland and northward they should get a fair amount of weather. I've got to go get the laundry out of the basement and get dinner started before this next killer storm hits. I bought dogfood (so the dogs won't eat our carcasses immediately when we're all frozen to death) and bread (so we can have peanut butter and jelly in the post-storm power outage). We'll see if we survive.

Amy told me that she wanted to go with me to the grocery store next time I went so we could sing and dance in the aisles together... I would have brought her, but to be honest my back hurt, and my thumb was throbbin' and I didn't dance or do anything to shame my daughter...

this time..

By-Tor and the Snow Dogs

Last night it was shaping up to be a non-storm in these parts. We went to Geoff's parent/teacher conference at 7 and there was barely an inch of snow on the ground, just enough to make the ride slippy. Before I went to bed, we'd gotten another inch, and it had slowed down to a mere pittance.

This morning -- two more inches had fallen, and it was snowing like crazy. The forecast was that it would stop after midnight, but I guess they didn't tell the cloud over our neighborhood. It has been snowing ceaselessly throughout the morning. enough that I had to shovel the parking area (Pete left this morning early early, and I suppose he'll plow when he gets home, but I had to clear a place for Jen to park when she gets home from work and make it safe for her and the maillady to walk to the front of the house.

It's crazy out there. We've officially got a buttload of snow. And I doubted the forecast. Thing is, it is twice the amount they told us we were going to get, so I'm stoked. And so are the dogs.

Kinger looking at Jack (see below) and contemplating whether or not he should give chase	Jack and Kinger were belly down in the snow face to face and I wanted to take a picture -- but Jack had other ideas.
And he's off. Jack's favorite thing in the world is to run around the obstacles in the yard (swingset, dog pen, garden, toys) at top speed, using the hemlock branches as cover when Kinger comes up on his ass. He's out of control!	Kinger looks kinda sad, but I know he's happy, because hims a snow dog! Isn't hims?
	I was trying to take Jack's picture and again, he had other plans. He's very curious when I get down low, so he came up to sniff the camera. I like how his eyes got caught for this picture... and he isn't just a huge black blob on the snow. I should have used the flash on some of these. But there are many other opportunities for more snow pictures later. Hell... it's not even winter yet kids.

Geoff's parent teacher conference (aforementioned) was pretty good. Better than I expected. He is having problems paying attention and sitting still and doing that which is required of him at a given time. If he's asked a question with a simple answer (ie: what color is this?) he'll answer with a some nonsensical word or say something like "Five" for the answer. His teacher tested his levels of ability, and for some of it he was non-compliant, but he knows his stuff and she knows he knows... it's just a matter of getting him to answer when asked.

His literacy levels are astronomical, which is great. He was given a list of sight words, the words that the city where his school lists as "required" sight knowledge for kindergarteners by the year's end. He knew every single one, and he sounded out the one he wasn't sure of. His teacher was blown away, you could see the enthusiasm in her face as she was describing his reading. It really made me feel good too.

So it was a mixed report but no surprises. The best news is he has not been explosive in temper this year at all (yet) the way he was last year. And that makes me the happiest mom on earth.

Car Names
So far, suggestions are "Lefty" (thank you Virginia) for the fact it was left on the side of the road to be sold, and "BlueCar" (thank you Annie). I put the words together dot.com style there, with the capital C in the middle.

Geoff told me the car has a name. It's "Joy." I asked him where he came up with THAT one, because the vehicle itself does not exude such emotion nor does it inspire such in yours truly. He said "It just is."

He also calls the truck "Fluffy" instead of Quimby, it's God given Christian name... I'm not sure about that child.

I asked him if we could call this car Fluffy, thus using the name somewhere other than my truck which is anything BUT Fluffy. He told me no. It's name is Joy. End of conversation.

Last night, Jessica suggested we call it "Lame" and Doug got mad. I thought Lamemobile was pretty funny.

Doug still thinks we should call it Smokey, but that is making me gag just thinking about it. And I can't drive the car or touch it because all I will be able to think about is lungs clogged with tar.

Mr. Garfield wrote this morning with his zwei pfennig:

"I've always known if I had a Cavalier I'd have to name it "Attitude." You can use "Manners," like a visiting butler to the Wodehouse annals, I guess. Remember, I have always had an outsized fondness for $700 cars."

The comment on Wodehouse makes me get to thinking -- Stilton Cheesewright is a good name. And all the women Bertie Wooster was constantly finding himself betrothed to had funny names.

And "Attitude" is kinda funny. Something along the lines of some crazy crap from some 80s hair band would be good too. If it were a red car, "Cherry Pie" oozes false sexuality and spunkiness that this car just doesn't possess.

Your suggestions are still welcome.

I got to drive it to Geoff's school today to drop him off.

I hit my head three times getting out of the vehicle. Once when I went to preheat it, when I got to his school, and when I got home. I am not fond of this vehicle. So "Flaming Rolling Pile of Crap" is my name choice.

As long as it isn't flaming and rolling with me in it.

---

Yesterday I got email from Chrissy, the lovely and talented wife of CJK. I hope she doesn't mind me sharing this story, because I've been doing a LOT of thinking about it since she and I emailed back and forth on it yesterday.

She used to keep a journal and a personal homepage. She took the journal down her nephew, her sister's son, died tragically and unexpectedly in a car accident. The event left her with literally nothing to say.

She couldn't write about her thoughts/feelings about what happened to her nephew because she didn't want to hurt her sister by hashing it all out online. But she couldn't NOT write about it.

So she opted to take her journal down, but kept the personal page up so the lighter side of things could be shared.

Content on her site wasn't updated often. It was mostly holiday news, snippets of info about what was up with her and her husband, news about where they went on vacations, time they spent with friends, football... funny pictures. It was nice to read and a good way to stay up on the news of their life.

But her sister (the mother of the car accident victim) called her one night and ripped her a new bodily orifice about her website. She felt Chrissy focused the content all on her husband's family, their friends... and never made mention of their family loss.

Chrissy was stunned -- she didn't write about the accident and what happened because she didn't want to hurt her sister, but there she was getting her ass kicked for NOT writing. She had her sister's best interests in mind and at heart, and how is she thanked? With venom.

Chrissy explained to her sister her stance. The want to write but can't write and can't not write position she was in. The feelings she had. The whole shebang. Her sister eventually understood, but... Chrissy took her whole webpage down.

Can't say as I blame her. Thank God I've not been in a position with family at all where this has been an issue. But I feel bad for her... having to self-censor in this manner. All over misunderstanding.

Why do we write at all -- it is the question that I've been thinking of since yesterday afternoon. Why do I put stupid pictures of my dogs up online? Why do I tell people how Geoff's parent teacher conference went?

Doug often says things to me like "oh, are you going to write about this in your blog?" and he says blog with disdain. Truth is I might and I might not.

There are a lot of things I put up here that I'm sure he thiks is TMI, but I want to write about it. And God knows there are buckets full of crap I'd love to write about but I spare you poor bastards the suffering.

Why am I doing this? Why do any of us do this? Is it worth it to piss off a family member and find yourself having to defend decisions you make about your content? Who really cares about any of this?

Thing is, Tracy spit out a great defense of the Sicksider (Kimberly) the other day and I think she sums it up well. For me, I can walk away from writing this journal tomorrow. I could take the whole thing down and not feel like I'm getting an abortion or something. There is no sense to me of that strong a connectivity between me and what I write... but others, I understand their love and passion for the words they share.

The thing that bothers me most about what Chrissy went through with her sister is her sister's attitude.

Demanding that someone write about a specific story or situation, or demanding a specific anything be shared with the world is unfair to a writer. Getting angry with them because they do or don't is just about as out of line as you can get.

I could never demand that Amy write all about when she was in the folk duo "Amy Malkoff and Raymond Gonzales" instead of writing about her All about Buford experiences.

I wouldn't dream of insisting that Virginia write about her brother in law's death or write more about her mother's Alzheimers instead of her pregnancy.

If my sister kept a blog or journal, I would gleefully demand that she not talk about me knowing that she most certainly will.

So to Chrissy and to others -- I say this: Write. If you don't want to write about something, then for cryin' out loud don't. If you do -- spill. Write for therapy (it's cheaper) write for fun. Tell your stories. God knows I love reading you, even if you share something I'm not comfortable with or disagree with. Just write for you. Screw your audience (mwa ha ha) and have fun with it.

Before I accidentally put up the wrong page in my journal thanksgiving weekend, I had no idea the amount of strangers reading this thing. The amount of email I received surprised me to say the least. I figured Virginia, Annie, Amy... Mr. Garfield. Carrie. They'd notice. But complete strangers were... worried. Concerned.

I'm glad you are here and reading. And Chrissy -- I miss your Colloquy. You are a very funny writer, a beautiful person, and I really loved reading your stuff. You made me love "The King of Queens" on your recommendation. Your skiing story still makes me smile. Your writing on your mom and her spirit stay with me. I wish you'd write again -- but that isn't my decision. It was good reading you while I had you there... and no matter what you do writing wise you're still a funnyassed babe.

Autumn is an Ache

I'm not depressed, angry or sad about not getting the job or anything... just so you know. I've gotten email from complete strangers and friends I've made through this journal, and am touched that people care. Not getting the job kind of bummed me out, but not enough to quit writing and crawl under a rock. I simply have been busy doing a lot of nothing, all of it not in front of this computer. So that is the reason for my absence. Thanks for asking.

---

I inadvertently caused my sister a great deal of home sickness with the above banner picture.

She is in Florida, where there is no fall, there is no snow. And there in the picture is a combination of the two. It hit her hard -- she isn't going to see fall at all this year, and may get to see snow at Christmas if she's lucky.

I didn't mean to drive her into a great sadness. It was just a picture. I printed it for her on my new printer, color glossy and the whole 9 yards, and I am going to get it framed for her. I'll give it to her and it won't be a Christmas present, like I thought it would be. It'll be a just for no reason present. All nice and ready to beautify a wall wherever she lives for the rest of her life, be it north or south, east or west.

We did a geocache on Friday afternoon with one of Doug's co-workers. She was so interested in geocaching after Doug explained it to her that she ran out and bought a GPS and she and her sons attempted what they thought would be a nice easy one. Turns out the guy who put this one out there also put out the one that skunked us on our first attempt (thanks, Fismo!) and so they couldn't find it. Doug, being the seasoned geocacher, figured he'd walk right up to it.

We couldn't find it either. There was another cache in the same area, by the same guy, and so we went and found that one easy as pie.

After we split up to head our own way home from Doug's friend and her son, we realized our error and think we know where it is now. Unfortunately, after work caching is now done because of frigging daylight savings time. We'll have to cache on weekends or holidays, until the snow comes. So far we've found 31, and have only had to revisit two of them to find them. This has been a fun hobby, and we're not done yet. I'm just hoping the snow holds out.

I know exactly where we are going to put one when we're ready to put one out there. I just hope no one beats us to it.

I took the kids to the one that Ivy, Jamie and I did on Monday because we all needed a walk, Doug was sleeping, and it was so easy I knew Jessica would be able to find it in a second, and she did. We left the house at 3:50pm, finished finding the cache and got in the car at 4:45pm, and it was already too dark to be walking in the woods. It broke my heart. Just a few months ago the sky would have looked like this at 8pm. We've lost three hours of light, and it's only going to get darker. I hate it.

It doesn't matter to me that it is lighter in the morning. I'm not a farmer. I don't get up at 5 to plow fields. This is stupid. It should so be abolished. Stupid daylight savings time.

Anyway -- I did grocery shopping, we did church, we watched football. It was pretty much a weekend away from the computer and I needed that. Unfortunately, I've got a project to finish for CM, and have some more work for MF to do this week. I can't believe it is week 9 of the semester already. There are only 15 weeks. Gah!

Wayne and Marcia are coming by at about 11am with the first set of pieces for the built-in entertainment center. Wayne did a ton of work on them this week, and it's all falling into place. The bottom is the hard part. The rest of the piece, above 36 inches, is shelving and he'll be able to build that out quickly. Doug and I need to pick a stain for it, and then I get to stain it.

I'm actively looking for a job, and sent out about 20 resumes in the last 48 hours. I'm contemplating contacting a head hunter. Professor CM is hoping to create a grant-funded position for me to work at the college again. I'd take it in a heart beat. He wants a 2 year grant that would pay between 40 and 50 grand annually. I don't know if grant funded positions come with W4s or if they are 1099 contractor positions, so if I got such a job and the grant didn't have my taxes withheld I'd only make between 20 and 25 k in the end, which would kind of suck. But... it beats getting no money. And it'd be working for him. Which would so rock. I miss spending time with him on a more regular basis. Not only is he funny as hell, but he inspires me and we have so much to talk about workwise. He's such a techno-whore, and he keeps me feeling fascinated by the net. I have been lacking that kind of spark since getting laid off. My boss at my last company was always thinking of what the web could do for what she wanted... and I'd research it and find out. We were a good team.

I miss that kind of work relationship. I don't get that here at home. Not to dis home or anything -- I love being here. I just miss a more concrete intellectually challenging work environment.

Speaking of home -- dishes call my name. Have a great day... and here are some dogs to make you smile (they even fit in with the color scheme of the page!) Check out Jack's tail on the back of the couch... it's so furry and cute. Kinger looks as if he's mentally communicating "Please get him off of me!" to me. But the two of them were cuddled really nicely together before I came in with the camera and Jack got all excited to have his picture taken. He's evil, but cute.

PBS, geocaching

PBS has done it again. Those jerks have sucked me in whole hog with yet another historical recreation "reality" show. You know how fond I was of "Frontier House."

Well, thanks to the friends at the BBC, our local PBS is now showing "Surviving the Iron Age," which takes place in West Wales around 800 B.C. It was filmed in 2000, and this is the first time I think I've seen it here in the states... at least on our local PBS.

I haven't gotten sucked in nearly as badly as I did with "Frontier House," but I'm fascinated by some of the people on the project.

One of them is exceptionally brilliant (Chris) and another is exceptionally insane (Yasmin).

There seem to be only four episodes, and I've seen two. Which is sad because I like the program and I don't think you can get a real understanding and feel for the project with just four episodes... But they only lived up there for like five or seven weeks or something, unlike the six months the volunteers spent on "Frontier House."

PBS will be showing another BBC series called 1940s house, which focuses on life in London during WWII. I'm intrigued. The bombings, the war, the rationing, the air raids... all narrated by Geoffrey Palmer ("As Time Goes By"). I'll be tuning in.

---

Yesterday we were planning a go down to Bonnie and Duncan's in the big City (er ah, er ah, Bahstin) for some urban geocaching. Doug got up and picked the caches in the Arnold Arboretum for us to do, and then checked the weather.

The news was not good. It was expected that before 2pm it would start raining and blowing harsh windiness on us, so Doug thought it best if we didn't go down. I agreed -- being on the hill at the Arboretum when it starts to wind and rainstorm on you is no party, so I called Bon to reschedule.

I was disappointed, so was she. I think we should have just gone to the city ANYway... and I moped around the house for a while. Doug went out and got the lawn mowed (most likely for the last time this year unless we get another warm couple weeks for the rest of this month) and cut down the sunflower heads so we can dry them for their seeds.

At 5pm it finally started raining, and was really just a little pissy storm. We SO could have gone down there, geocached, spent time hanging around the schitty, but no.

Sigh. Disappointment 101.

We geocached Friday after Doug got home from work, it was a quickie, but we all picked up ticks. I thought we'd had a good frost that knocked those suckers down, but I was wrong.

The sun set at 5:57, and at 6:06 we abandoned our search for the second cache right in the same area and decided to do it another day with more time.

We took the dogs swimming in Topsfield in the darkness, with the full moon shining on the lake. There was a sharp drop off where there used to be a paved boat launch that the town seems to have removed, and I was quite anxious about Geoff falling into the pond in the dark. I hate that it is pitch dark at 6:30 p.m. now, and I hate knowing that in a week or so we'll be turning the clocks back and making it even darker earlier. Gah.

Cats and Dogs

When Doug and I were first married, we had a cat. I begged Doug for a cat. I was very very lonely in Atlanta, he was in Graduate School, I was depressed... we got a cat. His name was Linus, named for the first Pope (we're not Catholic but Doug knows a lot of church history so he thought that'd be a great cat name). Linus was a southern rebel, to the core. He was pissed to hell when we moved north, and he hated Doug. I think he blamed Doug for everything. Stupid Cobb County Animal Shelter attitude filled southern cat.

So when he'd get mad at either of us, he'd go into the bedroom closet and poop all over anything that was on the floor. I'd usually discover it a few days later.

He also would attack Doug without provocation. Doug hated that cat.

We traded the cat for a Rottweiler (My Missy). I loved Linus. He was such a good cat to me, but he and Doug definitely didn't ever bond. To this day -- Doug HATES CATS. My kids want one in the worst way. Doug's all about the big NO.

I miss Linus sometimes. He was a super cat (to me). He would curl up beside me and do this kitty kneeding thing into my inner arm and put his kitty lips up against my skin, and in a half asleep way, purring his head off, would be transported back to life in the barn in some backwoods Cobb County town with his Mamma kitty and all his brothers and sisters, before they boxed him up and gave him to us.

I loved when he'd go wild and run all over the house like a complete mental patient. We had no furniture, so he'd crash into walls, skidding all over the place. It was a riot.

---

Kinger ate a duck once. Not a live one, but a partially consumed roasted Thai duck that was left unattended. It was on the counter at Dan and Honey's house. Honey left it there, not thinking that Kinger, with the mindset of a stray, would eat the whole thing once she left the house to run to the market. Her dogs don't ever eat off the counter.

Dan warned us that it happened when we picked him up that night. He predicted the worst.

And the worst did happen.

Doug and I were asleep, and suddenly Doug woke up thinking, "What is that smell???" He got out of bed and walked into the kitchen. Kinger was cowering in the corner, the entire room was covered with both vomit and shit. Kinger was terrified. So was Doug.

To this day I'm so proud of what he did next. He didn't wake me up saying "Honey? There's some puke in the kitchen, and some shit. Can you go clean it up?"

He was wide awake -- his body shocked into response and literally unable to just walk away from it and ignore it. He took the dog outside, cleaned the house, cleaned the dog, cleaned himself, prayed it wouldn't happen again that night (after all that effort)...

When I got up in the morning there wasn't a trace of stink. He did an amazing job. A round of applause for the responsible dog owner.

We don't leave food unattended, not even a loaf of bread. All our pets for some reason have had this "thing" for bread loaves. Linus used to pull them off the counter and wrestle with them, fighting them until they were naught but crumbs and plastic shredded remains. Missy and Kinger both would take entire loaves and eat them. On our bed.

Not good.

Jack is proving himself to be kind of a food thief. I'm hoping he learns a lesson some way before we have a Thai roast duck incident.

Alright -- I'm off to shower. More tomorrow.

Classy Next Door Neighbor Party...

There isn't much going on this weekend... so this entry is happening just because I have a quiet house and don't feel like doing dishes. How's that for a good reason to sit down and write. I'm wasting bandwidth and your time, having nothing to say... all because I am evading work. But who cares. I sure don't. God bless the interneck.

Seeing as I haven't shared any dog pictures in quite sometime... here are two:

Jack is such a cutie -- but lately he's been a complete pain in the ass, crapping wherever he feels like, even if we take him out and walk him for a half hour. This has to stop. He's going to make me mental. And he's growing, so his piles are getting... bigger.

Something for me to hate...

I also hate when September turns into July. I hate when I get used to it being cool enough at night for me to want sheets on my body, and then nature stokes the invisible furnace. It is hot out. My plants, which were slowly starting to recover, are now in a state of re-wilt.

New England. Almost Fall. Go figure.

Football season is in full swing again. Last year when it all got underweigh I was so stoked for the start of season and then Sept. 11th rolled on in. I lost my joy pretty quickly.

I'm not nearly as goofy about it this year, but with memories of last years Pats win, and being in Ben's football pool and fantasy football league, I am hoping my enthusiasm will rise. Right now though, I actually don't feel like getting excited for football. The opening theme for Monday Night Football used to get me rolling with Hank Jr., and I'd be all singing along and shit. This year... it's a step higher than "Meh."

Church is back in full swing. Sunday School always brings the families back. Such was the case with us. I took the kids today. Jessie was all "meh meh meh" about going but when she got there the two girls she is friends with got her sucked into singing with the choir. Doug was scheduled to be the reader, and he didn't come, so I filled in for him. Must say, Best Reading Ever. I enjoy reading to an audience, no matter what the topic. Today's scheduled readings were good ones for me -- and I "killed" as it were. It is always nice after church to have people I don't know, or sort of know, or know really well tell me that they loved the way I read.

I think we may do our Grinch thing again in December. People are already asking. We're almost famous in our tiny parish church.

Next door neighbors had a big party yesterday to housewarm. I baked a big assed banana bread and we all went over after the Hewitt/Agassi match. We were there until wicked late. They're a fun family with crazy friends. Large batches of adults were vanishing off into the woods to smoke pot though... that kind of soured me a tad. But they'd come back and play volleyball or whatever. We had fun chatting with two guys who were baked longer than Sunday Morning Buffet potatoes. They were pretty fun.

Things got a little weird at the end of the evening. One of the women there, she has 5 kids, had been waiting all afternoon for her husband to show up. She called him at 2. He was still at work, he'd come straight up when he was done. She called him at 4. He went home to shower (90 minutes south of the party, when he was 20 minutes away at work...) and he finally showed up at 8 as she was packing up the kids to leave.

She launched. Old school. Fuckin' this and Fuckin' that, f you you f'itty f'ing f'er, in front of her kids, in front of other guests, including me and my son...

Wow. Haven't heard an ass reaming like that in a long time. Then she went in the house to cry and he went out and pushed the kids on the swing while smoking a butt muttering "Pfth, Women. HA!" It should be really interesting living next door to these folks, with these very interesting friends...

C and S (the new home owners and our neighbors) almost started to go at it too. I think that everyone had had a bit too much to drink, and a bit too much smoke, and a bit too much sun. We left a little while after that with the excuse that the kids were filthy (yes they were...) and it would take us all night to clean them up (took 5 minutes in the shower each).

Sometimes you just gotta know when it's time to leave a party so old friends can fight if need be, and you don't get in the middle.

You know what I'm sayin? Yeah. You do.

Anyway. They're all over there again this afternoon although it looks far mellower, and Geoff wanted to go play. So I let him. Let's hope he doesn't cause any problems. Jessie didn't want to go over. She says she's tired of E (the daughter, who is Geoff's age) calling her names.

Again... this should be interesting living next to them.

But I'm not complaining. They seem open about letting people take walks on the trails, and they are the most fun and most generous people I've met since we moved here. So while they may seem kinda redneck, tattooed, crazy... they seem more normal than anyone we've met in quite a while. We'll see how it goes.

More tennis tonight with Sampras/Agassi. I feel the need for a nap. Someone needs to go to the store to buy coffee grinds today or else tomorrow morning will be hell zone. So there is stuff to do and husbands to force out to the supermarket. I need to finish up some websites... I'm done with site one for Professor CM (finished yesterday. viola!) and meet on phone with Professor MF, and get into the work week upcoming. Have a great rest of your weekend.

Procrastination is my middle name...

No it isn't. Bet you don't know what it is... some of you do. Some of you would laugh your asses off if you knew. Okay. I'll tell you.

It's Louise.

Yeah. My middle name is Louise. Thanks Mom! Couldn't be something pretty, could it? Has to be something that Doug can call me "Weezie" with once in a while. He has done that since the day he found out the L didn't stand for Lollipop in my monogram. Louise. Flibbity Floo! Hurrah for me.

Anyway. I slept in. Not really sleeping mind you, with a puppy and a big dog rolling around in my bed trying to get the most love they could get from me. I caught up on my journal reading. And I'm sort of dragging my big assed size 10 feet on getting work done today. It is already 3:30pm. I have a 10am phone meeting with Professor MF tomorrow to finalize her site and I still have about 10 hours worth of work to do, damnit! I suck.

All that will change. I plan on working tonight... I work better under pressure. So Procrastination isn't my middle name, it's Danger.

Tess survived her oral surgery... poor thing. Before I left the mail came and in it was a box from her out there in Alaska filled with picture postcards of her city and dog treats for my dogs. Now how cool is that y'all? Get over there and give the girl some love.

MMMMMMMM.... Coooookie. Gaaaaaggghhhhhh....	What cookie? Oh, the brown mark there? Nah. There was no cookie there. Burp.

---

Chad and Remi, the expectant parents of twin boys there in South Carolina, had a scare last week. Remi got put into the hospital for 3 days in the middle of the week, she's in her 28th week and is 80% effaced... so she's on full bedrest a month earlier than planned.

The boys, aka Slash and The Bus to me and Doug, are "due" in December. They will most likely make it to November.

So please keep them in your thoughts and prayers. Send good mojo. Lift 'em up. And I know how crummy Remi must feel. Having spent a month in hospital on bedrest and an additional 2 weeks cooped up at home alone and on strict orders not to get out of bed, it can become overwhelmingly depressing. So please pray for her to have an easy go of it spiritually and emotionally. And mentally.

After June's loss of baby Ryan, I'm keen to have another happy baby story shine on these pages. My buddy Sean's baby is doing well, and another buddy Sean in Chicago just welcomed his baby on July 30th... so there are happy baby stories out there. I want to keep 'em coming though.

Did I mention my buddy Dan and his wife are expecting? They're the ones who got married in November of last year. They are due in mid October... they didn't wait long. I guess Mrs. Dan felt they had lived together long enough, the marriage was a month old -- let's have a baby! They know they're having a boy, not sure of the name yet (or jokingly "Dan, has she told you what the baby's name is yet???").

---

My "baby" who claims he is not a baby, is currently playing a video game and singing a song from "Veggie Tales." Are you familiar with Veggie Tales? Essentially, it is a series of christian children's videos that are hysterically funny. So funny in fact that they make me pee. No lie.

Veggie Tales isn't your usual evangelical bible thumping treacle. It's all computer animated, and very intelligent, very funny stuff. There are little vignettes in the middle of the videos called "Silly songs with Larry," and they are... hyper silly. Geoff is singing the 'Cheeseburger Song,' which is a song from "Madame Blueberry," a retelling of "Madame Bovary," at the top of his lungs. Larry doesn't sing it... Mr. Lunt does, while Larry is sent on hiatus so the series can have a more sophisticated vignette segment called "Love Songs with Mr. Lunt."

It's one of my favorites. And he sings it to me when I'm in the kitchen. Making Cheeseburgers. If you have kids, or know someone with kids, these videos are fabulous object lessons based on stories from the bible and literature, and there are more than one nods to Monty Python throughout the series (my favorite being the French Peas in "Josh and the Big Wall," when they tell Joshua and the Israelites to "Go Away," a la the french guard in "Holy Grail...").

---

In other more boring non-baby, non-singing animated vegetable news, I am trying to convince someone I know very well to start a blog. Single, sassy and lookin' for booty is her theme. She's got some funny assed stories, and would have to remain completely anonymous in order to put up what she wants to say, but I guarandamntee it'd be a good read.

Like I have nothing better to do than to encourage others to become exhibitionists with their lives, and web journaling addicts. I so need a 12-step program to get me out of this journaling thing.

Sigh.

Anyway. I really only wanted to post a picture of Jack enjoying the Dog Treats from Tess. I have to get to work, and I have to go to Walmart to get damn pillows (didn't go last night, ended up not having enough time in the day so we slept pillowless again. Not gonna happen tonight though!). I need to assess what the kids have for school clothes, school starts a week from today. I can't believe it. So much to do...

Wish there was something more interesting to post. But I need to be web design queen for someone other than myself now. So I'll chat later.

Girl dog is boy dog??? Whaaaaaa?

Doug is making lunch, the last load of laundry is drying, and it's an important one because it's our swim towels and Doug's shorts. So we have to wait for that to be done before we can leave. It's noon, I need to grab a quick shower. We need to go, but I can't resist a quick goodbye.

---

Doug took Jackie to the vet yesterday for the 10 day checkup and followup shots. Surprise surprise, the reason our girl dog didn't have any visible surgery marks on the belly from getting fixed is -- our girl dog is a boy dog.

Yup. Isn't that an ass kicker?

We have a Jack, not a Jackie. Good thing we didn't name the dog Cindy, or Kelly (although that could possibly swing to male. I had a philosophy prof in college, male with the first name Kelly...) or something overtly feminine. And you may think "What the hell is wrong with these people that they can't tell a boy dog from a girl dog. Let me 'splain.

Missy had a little "button" thingie on her underside, and so does Jackie. Jackie squats to pee, the paperwork identified this dog as female. All the while, we wondered why the "button" thingie just like Missy's was further up the belly than hers was, but ... the papers said... the papers identified this dog... well. Hmmm. Confused.

So the vet's office kind of laughed at Doug, he showed them the paperwork and they shook their heads. We have two male dogs now. And that was NOT what I wanted.

But.

We can't send him back. He is the best dog ever. The dog has the best demeanor of a puppy I've ever seen. The kids are bonding. He is bonding to us. You should hear his tail hit the inside of the kennel in the morning when I get up to get him out. There's a love here.

A body part probably can't change that for us. Not at this point.

The vet also told Doug that he looks like a 100% Newfoundland. I sure hope the hell not. He'll end up 180lbs and drooly. I hope that the lab/aussie shep mix is what he is... Or perhaps the shelter fucked that up too. Who knows.

Well, we're off. Gotta pack everyone up. A couple pictures prior to splitting. Spent the afternoon in the pool yesterday with Nancy and her kids. What a treat. I so wish to hell we'd put our pool up. Damn.

Look at that little boy go! An action swimming shot of Geoff. Love the splash action!

Jessie poses with Em's pigpig.

Nicky, Nancy's thre legged dog. The back right leg isn't there... hard to notice at this angle. She's really fast and very funny. Great dog. Ate grapes right out from between my lips... Nancy was stunned that I'd do that with a strange dog, or any dog at all... but she laughed her ass off. I like this dog. She's a riot.

Okay. That's all I have time for. Next time, remind me to write about Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, the movie we watched last night. Not bad, not great. Certainly not Kevin Smith's masterpiece... hard following up Dogma though.

Bye. Happy fourth. Remember to throw your firecrackers down wind, or they will fly back in your face. Be safe. Love!

Geocaching!

Today we went Geocaching for the first time. We tried two. We didn't find either cache.Which was somewhat of a total drag.

On the first cache, we spent 90 minutes hanging out, hiking, climbing, searching, looking in Newbury right along the Parker River, with Masconomet High School off in the distance. It was loads of fun. We got tons of bugbites, Geoff almost took a header into the river, due to his insistence that the water wasn't deep and he could swim (neither of which were true at all. the water WAS very deep, Kinger couldn't get himself out and I had to rescue him, and Geoff sort of can swim when his feet touch the bottom).

I was incredibly bummed not to have found the cache box, but you know, I had a wicked fun time. Wicked being something New Englanders say for "good" or "excellent."

Doug has a stick in one hand (for poking and whacking snakes, if need be), a GPS in the other, and his feet in the marsh. Where the hell is this cache!

Geoff looks like he's about to jump in, but in reality he's about 20 feet away from the edge of the rocks

The second cache I didn't even want to GO on, being totally exhausted from the first, but Doug, being persuasive and joyous, said "this one looks so easy. The reviews said "found in 17 minutes from my car..." etc.

So we went.

Ugh. It was horrid. We parked on the wrong side of where we should have been and walked hard, steep terrain for two hours. If it had been the only cache hunt of the day, we would have found it and not been so wiped out. But we turned back about 3/10 of a mile from our goal. The bugs were coming out, and we had a babysitter coming to the house and left no note for her to expect us to be late... so we bailed.

We're 0-2 on geocaching. Meh!

By the way, I'll be building up a site for Doug, since he is the master of the GPS, under his area outlining all our upcoming geocaching attempts.

Puppy Update....

Let's see how much I can get written this morning. I put Jackie back in her kennel because I didn't want to leave her unattended with Geoff. Not because I fear Geoff hurting her like the guinea pig... but because she puts a good scratch on, and bites, and Geoff is afraid to hurt her so he doesn't push her off and tell her no. I've had to break up a couple crying scraps between them... mostly Geoff crying.

He's watching Pokemon and eating breakfast. Everyone else is asleep. Jackie kenneled from 11pm to 6:30am, so we all got a good night's sleep.

She's a crap machine though. Damn! But I won't get into the particulars of her business. We took her to Petco yesterday afternoon, with Kinger. Met a 1 year old St. Bernard who was as tall as Geoff eye to eye. Jackie was a great big hit and garnered us a lot of attention. Puppies are chick magnets, it is true. Men, if you're looking for some babes -- or babes if you're lookin' for some babes, getcherself a puppy!

All the Petco people loved Jackie and got down to play with her. I felt bad for Kinger, but he got to meet cool dogs and peed on stuff and I pretended not to see. "Cleanup in Aisle Two..."

We bought her a ton of chew toys so she'll chew less on Geoffrey and our brand new sandals. She hates walking on the leash unless she sees Kinger in front of her.

All told, there isn't much to report generally in life, because we're puppycentric at this time. We've got to get work started on the ceiling this week, but Doug's new GPS for geocaching should arrive today and damn if he isn't like some freak little kid or something. I doubt we'll get any ceiling work done this week. There is a possibility this afternoon I may have to go down to the college to work with one of my project professors. So today could be bust all around for ceiling work. Sigh.

the good news, and the sad news

Good News
The first Jackie night went well. We put her in the kennel at 11pm, and she cried until... oh, midnight. I had forgotten how heartbreaking kennel training a new puppy is. We trained Missy in the kennel, and she cried a lot the first couple nights, but eventually got to the point where "go in your place" was a welcome suggestion.

Jackie woke up every two hours, like a baby. How funny is that? Well, she totally is -- a baby used to one situation who now finds herself in another one entirely. Cuddled in a puppy pile with brothers and sisters in a shared cage, she now finds herself alone.

At 2am we ignored her, she pushed the partition down between the front and back, and went back to sleep. At 4 she woke up and sounded frantic, so I went out to discover she'd pooped in the kennel. I took her outside with Kinger so he'd mark the pee places fresh for her... brought them back in, cleaned the kennel... encouraged her back in quietly. She cried for about a half hour, then fell asleep until about 6:15.

The morning has gone incredibly well. She went right out and peed and pooped outside, played ball, ran around with me, came back in, played with Geoff for a while and passed out snoring on the couch. I put her in her kennel, to show her that's where sleeping should happen, and after an hour Doug got up to find her sitting politely and quietly inside, with her tail banging on the inner walls as she recognized him.

I slept until about 10, thank God. I was exhausted! When she got up at 4, I was pretty much awake until almost 5:30. Sometimes I can't just fall back to sleep when I am woken up. She played and played outside with Doug and Geoff, chasing tennis ball, and playing with the chew toys we had in the house. Kinger has mostly just stayed near, paying attention to her and doing his usual thing... happy as usual and not at all irritated or jealous. Relief.

She took a good long nap from 11 to 12, out cold solid by my feet here at the computer. I put her in her kennel again, and she slept some more. She's asleep now again... the kids are eating so I don't want her interfering.

I think we made a good choice.

---

Bad News
We got email from a friend of Doug's from back in the day named Steve. Doug and Steve were in cub scouts together, and he was one of the first people Doug introduced me to when I went out to western PA for the very first time. Steve and his wife Vicky welcomed a new baby into their lives, but there's been a snafu.

Here's the email:

This may be the toughest email I've ever written. Many of you were aware that Vicky was pregnant and due this June. She gave birth to our son Ryan at 9:05pm on June 16.

He was born a perfectly healthy baby and did fine for the first two days in the hospital. We took him home Tuesday night and were delighted to spend our first night as a family together.

On Wednesday morning Ryan stopped breathing and went into cardiac arrest. He was given CPR by me and then the paramedics before being rushed to a local hospital. After working there for two hours he was Life-Flighted to Children's Hospital in Pittsburgh.

After several hours of surgery he was succesfully placed on a heart-lung bypass machine and has been stabilized. He is in very weak condition but has showed some improvement physically. He was without oxygen for a very long time, though.

The prognosis isn't good but it is not hopeless. We have been praying for him constantly and are thankful that he has survived this long - there were many times Wednesday when we thought he would not.

Please keep Ryan in your thoughts and prayers. He is a strong baby but we would still love a miracle!

Any new parent's nightmare I must say.

This was all too fresh for me... having a friend whose son died at 8 days of age in 1997 due to Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. I remember so much from the day of his funeral, and so much sadness. I never want another friend to go through that at all, ever. No matter what the cause. I forwarded Steve's email to my friend, Sheri, who is now the director of the Massachusetts Heart Coalition, and even with five years distance between her son's death and today, she's still touched by other families dealing with this sort of thing.

Steve asks for prayers -- well. Pray. Please. He's a super guy, flies airplanes for traffic patrol in Pittsburgh. She's a lovely woman. Their wedding is one of the finest memories I have... they deserve a slim chance at a miracle, and as much as I believe that God's plan for them may be different, I'd like to ask him to just make sure that it is that Ryan will be their baby, survive, teach them, grow with them, and not die. Sometimes surviving is worse than death when a child has been through such a trauma at first... brain damage, CP, all sorts of learning disabilities... there is a lot of negative to making it past death's threshold. All the effort though -- all the hope. I want him to make it. I hope that God sees eye to eye with his people.

Alright. That's a downer. Let's finish up.

---

I forgot to give the website of the Sterling shelter, for anyone interested in learning more about what they do, or giving them support. They've got an interesting program... they are at Sterlingshelter.org so go check 'em out. Send people you know who are puppy seeking...

The Puppy Hunt

I met with the college professor I'm working with this summer for about 90 minutes today, and then I met Doug and the kids at an animal shelter in Salem, MA, so we could look at dogs.

Yes. I'm thinking it's time to get another dog to be part of our family.

I'm looking for a female, mixed breed as long as she isn't a rottie/dobie/pit bull mix, and under a year. I'm looking for something that won't be say over 70-80lbs full grown.

There are a lot of dogs out there, few in our actual scope or desired specs. We went to two shelters. We met one or two dogs that might fit. One was a husky/lab mix, husky coloring but lab eyes. Which was weird. Brown eyes on a husky is just so weird.

We didn't pick out a dog, but filled out two applications and asked to be called if someone came in who fit our desired profile. It's like a personal ad. It's like ... applying for colleges. What fits. What works.

They had a gorgeous full bred rottie female, age 11 months. She sat in the kennel and just looked at us with soft eyes, didn't wag her stubbie. Didn't get her hopes up. Her sign said her name is Zoe. She hates umbrellas, and wouldn't be good with kids under 12 or other dogs.

Not that she'd come home with us, but she was lovely to look at.

For anyone who hates rotties, I have no idea how you could. Just their eyes can melt a heart, and their tiny stubbies wagging when they see you coming. Sigh.

Geoff saw Zoe and gasped, and said 'It's Missy. I've been looking for her. Here's where you've been.'

I almost burst into tears, but Doug explained how it wasn't Missy and Geoff seemed to understand.

So we now have four applications out there with shelters. One shelter had this God Awful Application, it went on for four pages. Wanted to know EVERYthing about us. What food we plan on giving the dog. What our street is like. What our kids do. What we do all day. They require a home visit.

The application was harder than any application I've viewed for anything in recent years. They are begging on their website for people to come adopt a dog, but the application process is just shy of requiring a blood sample, pound of flesh and swearing on a stack of bibles that you'll feed poochie Science Diet all the days of her life.

Criminy. I would think adopting a baby might not be this damn hard!

They also suck at getting back to people.

We called and their answering machine said that on no uncertain circumstances do they do work by phone, that we are to fax or email things to them. We emailed a request for the application, got it 3 days later. We sent it back on... Sunday? Monday?

They are begging for people to adopt dogs. Can't they call us? Say "Hey, thanks! Got your application. Let's talk!" No. We haven't heard a word.

And there's the website, freshly updated weekly with all new dogs. Begging people to adopt them. Begging anyone to take them home to a "forever family."

Call me! I'm willing. Seek ye no further. Here I am!

There is a trio of three females from the same litter, collie/retriever mixes. They are lovely. They are 19 weeks old. Hello? Earth to shelter manager? Earth to someone... We'll definitely come see them, you can come "home visit" our house. We're here. Helloooooooo???? Buehler? Anyone?

Sigh.

Why do I want a second dog. I mean honestly. Why? The professor I'm working with asked me that today.

I have no idea. I love to see dogs swim and play together. I like to know that Kinger isn't here in the house crying cause he's lonely. He is so good when he's with Gonzo, but Gonzo lives in Maine. I miss my Missy, but no one will be able to take her place, ever. I don't know what other reasons...

---

We've been playing a lot of Sega lately and I am admitting here and now that I have an addictive personality. Sonic the hedgehog is ruling my life. I cannot get out of the third world in the second stage, Marble World or what ever it is. I'm doomed.

Mom, when you come up in July. Feel free to bring the hand me down playstation. We may as well give in... we're part of the video game cult. The kids, I can limit their play. Me... I'm going to need a 12 step program.

---

Today I took Jessie to Kohls to go shopping. It was our first time there. I normally don't buy clothes for the kids anywhere other than Walmart or on consignment, but Jessie is grownup sized with grownup tastes, and Walmart and Target have shit clothing for women.

No lie. I hate 90% of what they have there.

Target thinks that girls should all be dressed like Britney or any other blonde du jour. Walmart thinks that Kathie Lee knows fat lady fashion. I personally like to shop at Lands End or LL Bean... because the clothing style is conservative.

Girls' shorts shouldn't all be the same length even if the waist size is larger. Seriously. Have you looked at popular trendy girl shorts lately? Go to the store right now and take a look at the rack.

Size 2 shorts and size 14 Britney style shorts ARE THE SAME LENGTH down the thigh for most of what they sell nowadays. Three inch long shorts on a girl who is about 150 lbs are NOT as attractive as that on a girl who is 90lbs. Sorry. Someone get a ruler, add a couple inches lengthwise as the shorts grow widthwise.

Plus, She is 10. Not 16. I don't want her ass cheeks hanging out the bottom of a pair of daisy dukes at age 10. Regardless of her weight.

So, they had a section of girl clothes like that, with these retarded motherfucking Tshirts that said things like "Dump Him," "I'm Stealing Your Boyfriend," "Your Boyfriend Loves Me In This T-shirt" crap on them... and a whole section of Columbia sportswear, Champion Sportswear, Lee Jeans Shorts, Sonoma Jeans, and other "normal" non-TRL style clothes.

Who wears "Your Boyfriend Loves Me In This T-shirt" Shirts anyway? Who is the bitch who puts that shit on. Slap her ass. And if I was the mom.... Holy Flerkin' Schnit! I'd freak the fuck out if my daughter wore a shirt like that!

Anyway, the great thing about this store is they had the bullshit trampy clothes section, and the normal human being clothes section, complete with Levis, Lee, Sonoma, Nike and Columbia Sportswear clothes. Whew!

I had no problem finding 10 pairs of shorts for her, from nice denims to Nike athletic running shorts which will be great when we're camping and sweating and running around. I can throw them with her in them in a lake and they'll come out nice.

And let me just say that I'm relieved to find someplace that sells decent clothing that isn't in the Mall, where life is insane, and I can be happy dressing my kids in the clothes I find there.

I bought myself 2 Hawaiian shirts by the way. Stylie!

On to shoes... She wanted sandals. She wanted flip flops.

I told her no friggin way. Remembering my sister trying to jump over a fence in a pair of flip flops at one of my cousin Debbie's softball games, catching her super long monkey-toe in the chain, and falling on her face.

That'd be Jessica. 25 years later... doing just that this summer.

Monkey toes. That's not good for flip flops. She'd be dead. She wears a size 8 shoe. HA! No. Sorry.

So I bought her a really ass kicking pair of Columbia Sandals, for hiking, swimming, wading, fishing, living. They are gorgeous. I bought me a pair of Ocean Pacific Sandals, I wanted them for Jessie but they didn't have her size in stock. I bought Geoff a pair of really nice Nike sandals. They rock, and he loves them.

I got both of us Sponge Bob Tshirts. Yes. I now have a Sponge Bob Tshirt. I am too damn retarded.

All told, we didn't get a dog, we have elbow cramps from playing Sonic, and our feet are stylie. I'm a happy girl today. Alright. I hear Sonic and a beer calling my name. Marble World Ho!!!