Tied Up With a Black Velvet Band

A Day of Silence

2011-03-18T10:52:00.000-05:00

I know it's ironic because I haven't updated in a long time - but I felt compelled to include this today.

My Week/Wordless Wednesday

2011-02-09T00:01:00.004-06:00

Never neglect the little things.

2011-01-12T11:26:00.000-06:00

“Never neglect the little things. Never skimp on that extra effort, that additional few minutes, that soft word of praise or thanks, that delivery of the very best that you can do. It does not matter what others think, it is of prime importance, however, what you think about you. You can never do your best, which should always be your trademark, if you are cutting corners and shirking responsibilities. You are special. Act it. Never neglect the little things.”

I've been absent from my little blog for a long time - far too long really. And neglect seems to be the overriding theme. Yes, I've clearly neglected this little nook that I've carved out for myself on the Internet, but I actually stopped writing because I felt as if I was neglecting other aspects of my life. So I basically neglected one so that I could stop neglecting the other. Confusing, no?

The holidays were crazy around our house - and they shouldn't have been. There are no children involved, we didn't travel anywhere, and yet, I was still sapped and overly emotional the entire time. I was completely absent from Twitter and blogging as a result of complete lack of time, and it made me think....

Was I neglecting other aspects of my life because of my love of the "on-line" life? It wasn't too far-fetched for me the quickly check Twitter while dining with my husband, or even shuffling through my Google Reader while we were watching a movie. I jumped on links of products that other people loved, sometimes buying an item immediately, but certainly noting it for my next trip to that particular store. I wasn't giving it my best - everyone was getting short-changed, including myself.

I felt like it was being pulled in a million different directions, so I just abandoned it all.

My absence has been good for the most part, but good grief I have come to miss the ladies that I know and love...yes, the Internet may have distracted me from my "real" life, but it has also provided countless friendships, valuable support, trustworthy opinions, and massive amounts of advice on what to buy and for how much - and that, well that's important too. And emails I've received from those of you concerned that my absence was caused by a larger, more serious issues? Thank you. If that doesn't speak volumes about the caliber of people you can meet through blogging, well I don't know what does.

I just need to figure out the balance - I don't need to be accessing what everyone else is saying 24/7, even though I love and value those words. I just need to get a grip.

I haven't figure out HOW yet, but I will....in the meantime, I'm easing back into the lives and opinions of those I adore, because I've missed it! So much.

Thanks for being who you are.

Happy Belated Veteran's Day

2010-11-11T22:48:00.001-06:00

I say "belated" because I'm posting this at 10:39 p.m., but I saw two things today that made me adore our soldiers even more than I already did:

First, if you think human souls are the only ones affected by a soldier's absence, you're wrong - trust me, click on that link and watch the video, it will do you heart good. Puppy squeals of delight are good for the soul.

And second:

They Told Me His Name Was Reggie
They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.
But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.
For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls - he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. but it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to.
I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.
This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me."
Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared" is more accurate - and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me.
Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.
But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice.".........
______________________________________

To Whomever Gets My Dog:
Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time... it's like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong... which is why I have to go to try to make it right.
So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
First, he loves tennis balls. the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.
Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones - "sit," "stay," "come," "heel." He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down - I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.
I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.
Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info. with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car - I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.
Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new. And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you....His name's not Reggie..
I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything's fine. But if someone else is reading it, well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems.
His real name is Tank.
Because that is what I drive.
Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they

received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq , that they make one phone call the shelter... in the "event"... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.
Well, this letter is getting to downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. but still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.
And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.
That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.
All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.

Thank you, Paul Mallory
__________________________________
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

"Hey, Tank," I said quietly.

The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

"C'mere boy."
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months.

"Tank," I whispered.
His tail swished.
I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.
"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some ball? His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?" Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

Monday Already? (And Manbug's Birthday*)

2010-10-25T13:23:00.000-05:00

While the weekend was wonderful, today has me feeling a bit under the weather and the signs are telling me that I'm about to get sick. Really sick. But I'm hoping to ward it off with a some high dosages of vitamins - I have a hectic week at work and weekend trip to the in-law's farm planned, and I JUST CAN'T GET SICK RIGHT NOW. That being said, we had a wonderful weekend celebrating Manbug's birthday (oh, the asterisk in my title was a reminder to drop a foot-note that Manbug has requested that I stop calling him Manbug. You probably don't recall, but his "nickname" was based upon my FAVORITE commercial of all time from over a year ago - a commercial which seemingly doe not exist anywhere on the Internet). It was one of Jack-in-the-Box's more entertaining ads - where a cheesy lounge singer croons:

Fly to me my ladybug
That's you
In the misty morning.

I sang that jingle non-stop for days upon days and I drove my husband batshit crazy. When he finally asked, no, begged me to stop - I deemed him my Manbug...and he's over it. So, new item on "Things to Do" list - find Manbug a non-Manbuggy-like nickname. Suggestions are welcome!

Anyway, my beloved turned 37 on Sunday, and we started the celebration on Saturday morning with a decadent breakfast of cinnamon buns - the verdict "We should eat these for breakfast more often." Saturday night we went to Fogo de Chao for the official birthday dinner and to be honest - it was eh. I mean, good meat and it's what he wanted, but as far as fancy and fluff? Little to none. We intended on having an after-dinner drink but parking was a nightmare so we headed home to open a bottle of wine and I gave him his big gift:

He has a beautiful dressy watch that I gave him years ago for his 30th birthday, but he needed a more casual watch for working around the house, biking, wearing with jeans, etc. I looked at a lot of pics but as soon as I saw this one, I knew it would look tres sexy on his wrist.

After too little sleep, we awoke and I made some homemade egg mcmuffins and he opened the rest of his gifts in bed - he got two wonderful gardening books from his mom and dad and tons of money in gift cards to spend at Sears and Lowe's on stuff that I could care less about (unless it's a new washing machine which I doubt), a pair of slippers (don't hate - that man has the coldest feet EVER and he refuses to wear socks in the house). This is his first pair of "house shoes" in his lifetime, so he has officially crossed the bridge to "middle-aged." (By the way does anyone else call them that? I hate it!). But, his favorite gift was from Jack:

It included an "I'm sorry for chewing up your heirloom shotgun case given by your now-deceased grandfather card" (which was surprisingly hard to find in my local Hallmark store).

We planned our whole night around the biggest rivalry in our house - the NY Giants vs. the Dallas Cowboys except...well, they are playing tonight. So we made his favorite meal (Breakfast Tacos - a recipe from his mom that's not breakfasty at all. I think the name comes from the fact you use bacon and dip the tortillas in egg. I'll share it soon!), a birthday cake, and watched a movie. I considered the birthday cake a small victory because although I adhered to his request by purchasing Duncan Hines mix for the cake itself (he LOVES the yellow cake), I drew the line at using canned frosting and instead used my Kitchen Aid Artisan Mixer for the first time since we received it for our wedding (yes, we'll be married for four years in two month) to whip up a batch of this frosting instead. I bought the canned crap just in case, and while he picked my frosting, he did say they were "comparable." WHA?

The movie was called "Holy Rollers" instead - it was about a drug smuggler that uses Hasidic Jews (usually young ones) to smuggle Ecstasy pills from Amsterdam. Michael Cera may not know it, but he has a twin brother by another mother - the actor that played the lead looked exactly like him.

Oh, and the second-in-command smuggler was Justin Bartha - the groom from The Hangover. He was amazing! (Until a few moments ago I thought this film was made years ago - I had never heard of it. Imagine my shock that it was

I consider it a very successful weekend - he isn't planning on returning a single gift (SCORE!) and he loved his dinner and cake - so a lovely weekend over all.

Hope you all had fun too!

(Insert crunchy leaf noises here)

2010-10-13T13:57:00.000-05:00

I'm headed back to my hometown for a quick visit to see my mom and attend some celebratory function at my childhood church. I'm so excited to wear boots and tights and sweaters and not look like an escapee from the "Seasonally Inappropriate Looney Bin."

For example, today I am wearing a lovely skirt that would look great with some tights and boots. But, our morning cool temperatures will end up in the high 80s this afternoon. Thus causing my toes to become very, very hot.

I love fall - I can't wait to see New Jersey at the prettiest time of year, even if I have a million things to do before I head out of town.

I'm hoping they'll be lots of this:

And this:

With a dash of this:

And some of this:

And hopefully NONE of this:

See ya' soon!

Weekend Recap

2010-10-04T15:27:00.003-05:00

I got a lot of items on my "things to do list" crossed-off this weekend - but not nearly as much as I had hoped. But all in all, it was a very good weekend.

I sacrificed the most beautiful day in about a year in order to get mucho paperwork done on Saturday. Yes, it would have been a better "life list" call to say f-it and just gallivant outside in the crisp fall weather, but the catching-up on filing, balancing of books and organization of tax materials (all for my husband's business) had been weighing heavily on me. So I sucked it up and hit the ground running. I got about 8/10s of the way through everything I wanted to accomplish - not bad? I kept the Red River Shootout on the TV in the background so that I "felt" like I was participating...but with a sad ending for UT, it didn't help much.

We had agreed to dog-sit our friends' older Chiuaua while they were out of town with their two younger dogs (the older dog has a hard time keeping up with the younguns') and WOW - Jack's reaction had me in stitches most of the weekend.

If you ever need something to do, I suggest you sit with a beer and watch two dogs duke it out over who gets to hump whom. And if there is a disproportionate difference in size of the two participants in Humpfestival 2010? All the better. I honestly laughed until I was crying - our once gentle Jack was just swiping his poor horny friend with one paw, sending him skidding across the room. Or, he would gently place Horny's small back leg in his mouth, drag him across the room and then Jack would return to a safe-haven, such as under my husband's desk, to get some peace. It was truly hysterical.

Saturday night we watched "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" - a movie we've both been meaning to see but it wasn't number one so it kept falling to the bottom of the Netflix list. Anyway, I was uncontrollably giggling through the whole move because early on - probably in the first or second scene - I determined that this was a complete cop-off of Forrest Gump. Also, I felt the need to explaing these similarities to my husband during each scene. So the conversation on our couch went something like this:

When they introduce the character of Daisy

Me: (whispering because my husband hates it when I talk during movies) That's Jenny (said in my best Forrest Gump-like accent)
__________________________________________________________
When a hummingbird flits around symbolically in many of the scenes

Me: (still trying to whisper) That's the feather.

(NB: I actually thought that it was a dragonfly until about five minutes ago when I was corrected. Whatevs - you say hummingbird, I say dragonfly).
__________________________________________________________
When Captain Mike is introduced into the story

Me: (yelling - but for effect since Forrest always yelled this name) THAT'S LIEUTENANT DAN!!
__________________________________________________________
When Benjamin is introduced to his family's business of buttons

Me: (whispering a bit louder) Those are shrimp.
__________________________________________________________
When the characters are discussing the bombing of Pearl Harbor

Me: That's the Vietnam War.

Him: You're not ever trying anymore.
__________________________________________________________
And then finally, when Daisy breaks her leg -

Me: (not whispering as effectively anymore since I've now had 4 Fireman's 4) That's AIDS.

Him: OKAY - I get it - it's Forrest Gump except for the whole aging backwards thing.

We both enjoyed the movie - especially the scenes where Brad Pitt is young and gorgeous (and by "we" I mean "me").

My husband always makes me laugh when he's exasperated with me.

Sunday marked what most have been a cold day in hell because....my husband went furniture shopping with me. WILLINGLY. Granted he hated the chair that I promised was the perfect combination of my desire for overstuffedness and his desire for uncomfortable wingback. He hated it.

But we bought him a desk. And a table for the hall. And a workbench for the garage. So, all in all a good day. Hope you had a good weekend.

Jiminy!!

2010-09-27T14:37:00.000-05:00

When someone says the word cricket, you're more likely to think of the mellifluous sound that woos you to sleepon summer nights, an anthem of the season. You might even recall a harmless light-green arthropod dressed in a blue top hat holding a red umbrella from your childhood.

But anyone who has ventured to Texas during the summer will tell you that we have plenty of crickets. And they are of the "not-so-attractive" kind.

They are EVERYWHERE. It's normal to see them indoors and outdoors - but they grow especially prevalent when the weather is wet and soggy.

And the weather has been very wet and soggy this summer.

I'm not a huge fan, but since I've been living in Texas for ten years now, I've managed to downgrade my panic upon spying one from an "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD" to a "Gross."

So imagine my surprise when this somewhat harmless but nausea-inducing insect caused the demise of my marriage.

She: I hate it when Jack's inside and sniffs at the same place for a while. He always freaks me out like there's something there I don't know about.

He: He was doing that the other day around the TV stand.

She: That's where he was doing it today too.

(He and She begin to ponder the significance of those statements taken in tandem. Both venture into the TV room and place TV on mute. Slight chirping is heard in the background. He walks around the back of the TV....)

He: There's definitely something there...I can hear it....OH MY GOD, get me the flashlight first and the vacuum second. NOW!

(She hands him the flashlight and runs off the get the vacuum. Meanwhile, Jack hightails it out of the TV room and seeks refuge two rooms away. Under a desk. And behind a chair).

He: It's HUGE!

(She is now panicking - believing that we moved from a possible cricket-infiltration, to the more-dreaded cockroach).

He: Ok. Go ahead.

She: ????? (head tilted for effect).

He: I'm holding the light - you can't expect me to hold the light AND suck it up.

She: BUT I'M A GIRL!!

He: It's every one for themselves in situations like this.

She: Situations like this? It's a bug! What the hell are you talking about? You're willing to throw me to the wolves over a bug? I thought we were in this together! WHAT ABOUT OUR VOWS.....

He: Wait, it is a cricket - I don't like to kill them.

She: Your argument for life preservation is seriously undermined by your lack of testicles in this situation.

(At this point, the cricket displays one of its common characteristics - a characteristic unbeknownst to the flashlight-holder and the vacuum-holder: sensitivity to light. Thus, it leaps about four feet in the air towards the light source).

He and She: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Jack is now on the phone contacting the shelter he was adopted from and requesting a home without two pussies as owners).

She: You are seriously cutting into my "Bones" watching time...how about I empty the cannister, suck little Jiminy up into a clean canister, and then you can release him outside - he'll be fine.

He: I'm holding the light. I can't do both

She: #$%^&*(()&*&^%$$##@@$#$%%^&&*))^%#@!!!!!!

You will all be happy to know that I grew a set big enough for both of us, caught and released little Jiminy and even ran over his body with the corner of a paper towel to make sure the dust from the vacuum didn't hurt him.

He: Is he okay?

She:

New York is a sucked orange.**

2010-09-20T21:24:00.000-05:00

Now that she's retired and living by herself, my mom volunteers two days a week at an out-patient surgical center that is affiliated with the local hospital in my hometown. She acts as a patient liaison of sorts - between the doctors and the patients' families - she holds hands, she brings coffee, she entertains scared children. Essentially, it's a perfect "job" for her.

The best part of her job, however, are the stories. Good gosh, she has some doozies. But the one that she related to me today had me laughing out loud.

Apparently there were two women waiting for their mother to come out of surgery. When the time came when a guest could go back to the post-surgical area, an argument arose because only one person was allowed. Words were said, voices raised, etc. In other words, the patients' family was less than appreciative of my mother's role.

She handled the whole thing as she always does - with grace and a few well placed insults. After all had calmed down, an older man approached my mom and tried to comfort her:

Him: I just want you to know that I think you are a wonderful lady and you made my time here today much less stressful. Thank you.

Mom: You are so welcome.

Him: I heard the way those girls spoke to you, and I felt so bad. I wanted to let you know that I appreciated everything you did today.

Mom: That was sweet of you - but I'm fine.

Him: They were very fresh to you. Young women shouldn't act like that. Do you think....

Mom: ???

Him: Do you think they were...(whispering)...from New York?

THE HORROR!!!!

The best part, my mom was born and raised in New York herself.

**Ralph Waldo Emerson

Been About Three Years Today, Guess It's Time for Me To Run Away

2010-09-02T01:00:00.001-05:00

I'm not sure I can say it more eloquently than I did here, here or here - so if you have the time, please click through and read about a very special man - my dad. Three years ago today we lost him and it hasn't got much easier. Well, that's not true - I don't cry every day - but sometimes the pain takes me by such surprise that I have to catch my breath to make sure my heart is not literally breaking.

He was an amazing man.

He was loving and devout and respected. He was the kind of man that everyone loved - and everyone told me how lucky I was to have him as a dad. And the great thing? Was that I knew it at the time. I appreciated him while he was alive and for that I'm thankful. I have no regrets.

Well, I have one big one and that's that I wasn't there when he died. But I can't change that. So in the meantime, enjoy the lyrics to the song that accompanied us when my dad first taught me how to dance - I remember the black velvet dress and matching hair band that I was wearing as my mary janes rested upon his feet - it also gave rise to the name of this blog, and was rejected summarily by my mom and wedding planner as a father/daughter dance at my wedding!

Tied Up With a Black Velvet Band
Well, in a neat little town they call Belfast, apprentice to trade I was bound

Many an hours sweet happiness, have I spent in that neat little town
A sad misfortune came over me, which caused me to stray from the land
Far away from my friends and relations, betrayed by the black velvet band

Her eyes they shone like diamonds
I thought her the queen of the land
And her hair it hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band

I took a stroll down Broadway, meaning not long for to stay
When who should I meet but this pretty fair maid comes a tripping along the highway
She was both fair and handsome, her neck it was just like a swans
And her hair it hung over her shoulder, tied up with a black velvet band

Her eyes they shone like diamonds
I thought her the queen of the land
And her hair it hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band

I took a stroll with this pretty fair maid, and a gentleman passing us by
Well I knew she meant the doing of him, by the look in her roguish black eye
A gold watch she took from his pocket and placed it right in to my hand
And the very first thing that I said was bad luck to the black velvet band

Her eyes they shone like diamonds
I thought her the queen of the land
And her hair it hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band

Before the judge and the jury, next morning I had to appear
The judge he says to me: "Young man, your case it is proven clear
We'll give you seven years penal servitude, to be spent faraway from the land
Far away from your friends and companions, betrayed by the black velvet band"

Her eyes they shone like diamonds
I thought her the queen of the land
And her hair it hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band

So come all you jolly young fellows a warning take by me
When you are out on the town me lads, beware of them pretty colleens
For they feed you with strong drink, "Oh yeah", 'til you are unable to stand
And the very next thing that you'll know is you've landed in Van Diemens Land

Her eyes they shone like diamonds
I thought her the queen of the land
And her hair it hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band

Zip-A-Dee-Do-Dah

2010-08-17T17:48:00.000-05:00

I mentioned previously that I did something I swore I would never do. Also, something I had absolutely no interest in doing. Also, something I was terrified to do.

But I decided to push the levels of my comfort zone and while I'm not thrilled with the results, I'm glad I didn't chicken out. We had some good friends visit from Dallas and at their suggestion, because trust me, I would NEVER suggest this, we went zip-lining.

Because it seems totally logical to test God's willingness to keep you on this planet once you've made it safely past 40 years by allowing a 20-something to strap you into a harness that has been used by hundreds of other people, hook you up to a piece of twine 40 feet in the air, and then propel you across a ravine (with a viewable poisonous snake below) where the only thing saving you from slamming face first into a tree is the four minutes of training you learned at "ground school."

Oh, and did I mention that the location of said deathiness (yes, it was necessary to make up a word) was over an hour away from our house and our "appointment" was at 9:00 a.m.?

And that I was exhausted from a crazy week at work that involved TWO days trips to Dallas and Houston - the latter the day before said "exercise in tempting fate"?

So I was probably a little biased before we left, but given that I tried it - I can give it a resounding 3 craw fish rating.

You see, I have a list of things that I like to refer to as crawfish hobbies. It means an activity in which the effort does not equal the reward. If you have ever attended a craw fish boil, or just eaten craw fish, you know of what I speak. In other words, you spend a long time working at something, only to end up with a microscopic speck of meat that doesn't even taste that good.

Let me elaborate - take skiing. You spent hours getting dressed - you add layer upon layer - from your special underwear to your socks to your ski pants and sweater and then finally a jacket, hat, gloves and goggle. You then toddle to the slope looking like a bloated inchworm and walking like you have a cold cucumber up your butt, all the while predictably sweating under the 1,567 layers meant for your protection. You then go to the ski shop, wait in line, try on equipment - hell, buckling your boots takes 45 minutes alone because of the fabric beer-belly that prevents you from bending over or even seeing your toes. Then, you're ready. Oh wait, no you're not - you have to inchworm-toddle to the lift line, wait your turn, and ride up the mountain.

Then, you ski. And it's over in a fraction of the time it took to get there. Craw fish hobby.

Ziplining is quite the same idea. You spend a lot of time waiting, and only a fraction of the time ziplining (is that word?). Like this:

Oh, and the equiment? MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE THE BIGGEST TOOL EVER.

My husband had tears streaming down his face when he looked at his best friend and realized that they both looked like idiots. Let's just say that the harness that is a required part of the process affects those with external genetalia a bit differently than those of us that don't have such extremities.

In other words, the harness makes you look like you have shelf coming out of your nether-regions. Add to that the helmet that creates the illusion that you are a giant-ill-dressed pencil...and well, there you have it.

Was it fun? Yes. What I do it again? Yes, but only beause I discovered (too late) that there is a winery down the road.

So it gets a resounding "craw fish" from me.

The Kind of Snake You Don't Want to Receive in a Text from your Husband

2010-08-03T12:45:00.000-05:00

I owe y'all a long explanation/story about the weekend I spent dangling forty-feet in the air while wearing a helmet and harness that made me look like a tool, but work is a bit crazy - so let me tie you over with a little story.

The story begins with a girl who had to awaken three times in one week prior to 5:00 a.m. in order to take a stress-filled trips for work. This particular day, the girl was heading to and from Houston for a few hours and had to entertain out-of-town guests for the weekend beginning that same evening. Guests that would surely arrive at her house while she was still sweating like a pig in an un-air-conditioned warehouse. Because of her travels, she had to rely upon her husband, and her cleaning lady, to get the joint in shape. Cleaning lady was assigned to the inside. Husband was assigned to the outside.

Imagine her surprise when she received a text from her husband entitled "Look What Jack Found" attaching the following picture (by the way, can we please give my damn dog a break? That poor thing has had the equivalent of 1800 nervous breakdowns in the past few weeks, including a recent piddle-inducing encounter with a nail gun):

I know it's hard to see because of the shading over the garden, but trust me - THERE IS A HUGE ASS SNAKE THERE.

Unfortunately, the snake had become entrapped in our netting (netting meant to keep the squirrels away but nonetheless has captured (1) a household pet, (2) a freaky caterpillar the size of my fist and now (3) a snake. It has yet to show us, however, that it is effective at keeping the damn squirrels away!).

The snake was hopelessly trapped - that fact, coupled with a not-so-reliable diagnosis from my father-in-law that "it didn't sound poisonous" (really? sound? You don't want to know, I don't know, what it looks like?) made it obvious that the little guy had to be put out of his misery.

Don't get me wrong - I don't like snakes - AT ALL - I just don't like killing anything. Especially when we are essentially living in his habitat.

Oh - totally unrelated, remind me to post a picture of my new snakeskin bag.

Just kidding.

Hissssssssss.

New Blog Header by Kramey Martin

2010-07-14T13:21:00.000-05:00

Just wanted to give a shout-out to the wonderfull talented Kramey Martin for my GORGEOUS new blog header! If you are thinking about a facelift or redesign, drop her a line. So talented!

If you are in Reader, click on out and take a gander at her work. Thanks!

Jack Had a Ruff Weekend

2010-07-13T11:26:00.001-05:00

No - I'm not above stupid puns. Obviously.

Jack woke me up at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday to be let out. I dutifully opened the door and then debated watching over him (as I usually do ever since he Houdini-ed out of yard), or sneaking back to bed for 20 minutes while he sniffed and pondered and licked his own penis. I decided to sneak back to bed and my snugly husband.

At 6:25 a.m. I got out of bed again, opened the door to our patio and whistled. You see, Jack always comes running when I whistle.

(Also, I can whistle pretty well - my husband, not so much. When Allen attempts to retrieve Jack from the yard with a whistle, I will literally come from wherever I am in the house in order to stop the loud slow leaking air noise
that my husband calls a whistle).

Anyway, I whistled - he didn't come. I called his name - he didn't come. I yelled "come" - he didn't come. I started to panic since I was slowly realizing I couldn't see him anywhere either (I mean, our yard is big, but it's not like Yellowstone-Park-we-lost-our-dog big). I threw on my Wellies (which I keep by the back door just for this purpose) (and which by the way, do not go very well with purple pajama bottoms) and ran out to the yard. I heard some flailing noises to my right and lo and behold, there was Jack....

Trapped underneath the anti-squirrel netting that we were forced to put over our tomato plants SINCE WE HAVE YET TO EAT ONE FREAKING TOMATO FROM OUR OWN GARDEN THANK YOU VERY MUCH F-ING SQUIRRELS. Ahem.

Anyway, he was stuck. And he looked pathetic and scared. And although I love him oh-so much, I broke down and starting laughing maniacally. It took a good ten minutes to get him out of that damn netting - it's hard to untangle a flailing puppy. But even as I sit here, three days later, I still have tears in my eyes from laughing at the vision in my head.

(Although I was TERRIBLY tempted to run back in the house and grab my camera - I decided that such actions were not kind and terribly inhumane of me. In retrospect, I should have. You'd be peeing in your pants right now instead of reading this pathetic commentary).

So I tried to cheer him up and I promised him great fun at the local dog park. Dogs! Butt-sniffing! Peeing! Lukewarm water with other dogs' saliva! What's not to love?

We loaded up the truck and headed over there - I could tell he was getting excited and the cheer-up factor was working. Until we arrived....

There were NO other dogs at the park. Dog park fail. Dog momma fail. I felt horrible. I immediately texted my husband who was at a store procuring some garden-related accouterments and he responded (rather quickly for him) "Bring him home." I could hear the protectiveness in his "voice" and I was touched. So we headed home and those two played in the yard for a few hours to make up for the dog park fiasco. I even let Jack sniff my butt while I was cooking dinner so that he felt better.

Then Monday came - and after I let Jack back in the house after his morning pee, I noticed that his eye was swollen. Turn out he got bit/stung by something in our yard and doggone it - he's decided that he's had enough! (Benadryl seemed to work and he's on the mend).

I mean, how much can one dog take I ask you?

One Year Later

2010-06-26T11:56:00.001-05:00

Today marks one year since we lost our beloved pet - I went back into my archives to read the post that I wrote last year, and even though it brought tears to my eyes, it made me laugh at the same time. It was so sad to lose him, but I'm so glad I recorded our memories. So, in honor of our little pup - I'm reposting.

THINGS I LOVED ABOUT MURPHY

I loved that you never quite got the hang of how to wag your tail. Instead, it just sort of swayed from side to side in a wavy S form.

I loved that despite your lack of wagging skills, we always knew when you were happy.

I loved that you couldn't lick very well either - you would aim for my cheek, but always end up somewhere around my nose and forehead.

I loved that despite the fact you were badly abused before I adopted you, you trusted anyone that I introduced you to - you just assumed they were good people if I exposed you to them.

I loved the spot between your two ears. It was the softest thing that I've ever felt and if I could make it into a pillow, I would.

I loved the way you used to let your dad hug all over you, even though you may have been somewhat apprehensive at first.

I loved that you had two spots in the house that were yours and yours alone. The tile in front of the fireplace, and the corner of our bedroom near the closet. I still look at those two spots and my heart aches.

I loved that no matter what time it was, if I headed to bed, you followed and laid near me in your spot.

I loved the way you used to get caught up in the curtains, fireplace instruments, and/or TV cabinet if we called your name while you were lying down. You were so anxious to get up and come to us, you often got tangled up.

I loved how you answered to any of the crazy names we gave you - such as Fuzzy, Fuzzbucket, Fatty, Fuzzacious M.

I loved the look that came over your face when your heard your dad's voice.

I loved that he was your dad and always will be, even though I adopted you over a year before I even started dating him.

I loved the way your ran - a bit bow-legged, and with your chubby thighs likely rubbing together.

I loved the reactions that you would evoke from passers-by. My favorite? "What the fuck is that - a bear cub?" Yes, we're walking a bear cub on a plaid leash, for the win.

I loved the way that you would come running into the room whenever you dad and I decided to "show our affection" to each other. And then you would stand there watching. And we would end up cracking up. But we never missed the romance - laughter was enough.

I loved the way you would take a running start into your dog bed and then leap into the air and land with a huge "poof."

I loved the way you listened to me even though you had no idea what I was talking about sometimes.

I loved the way you would come up and try to cuddle with your dad if you heard us raising our voices with each other.

I loved the way you would sniff a piece of food for about 15 minutes if we offered it to you. Like you were some sort of "Top Chef" apprentice.

I loved the way you walked around with a piece of turkey on your head forever after you dad threw it to you with bad aim. And when we laughed at you? You looked like you were laughing right along.

I loved how you trusted me with your life. Even when I made you sit in an 1/8th of snow in Dallas so that I could get your reaction in a photograph.

I loved the way you dreamed. The little barks you would emit, and the way your paws would move? I often wondered if you were following your herding destiny in your dreams - even though you were more than happy to give that up to be wit us.
I loved the way you tried to get our friends' cat to like you. And he did - down deep - he was just afraid to show it.
I loved the way you went ballistic the first time I took you to a dog park in Austin.

I loved that you were probably gay in that you only showed interest in other male dogs. We were proud of you any which way you ran.
I loved your nose and the way it would twitch a mile a minute when you were outside!

I loved the way you loved your "sister" Riley - she misses you terribly.
I loved the way you changed our lives. Even in your passing. You dad and I miss you, but finally feel ready to discuss the possibility of loving another type of little one in our lives. And I've even considered your dad's proposition that our child use the middle name Murphy.

We loved you Fuzzy. I hope you still know that. Murphy - RIP - 06/26/2009.

Shame

2010-06-23T07:22:00.001-05:00

I did something this weekend that I'm mortified to admit. It killed brain cells. It abused my intellect. It drove my husband crazy and caused me to neglect my home, my responsibilities and my pet.

I watched 24 episodes of TV of the genre of "Real Housewives." I'm barely able to type this post because I only have two remaining brain cells. I'm actually dumber than I was on Friday.

But boy, oh boy - was it good TV.

I watched almost the entire season of RHONYC, including the three reunion episodes (about fourteen episodes),

Two episodes of "Bethenny Gets Married" that have aired thus far, and

Seven episodes of RHONJ from this season.

Are you totally ashamed for me? My poor husband - I think he lost a lot of respect for me by my ability to sit on the couch and watch this stuff back-to-back-to-back. Granted, I wasn't just watching TV, I was parked in the TV room with my laptop attending to some ignored paperwork, but still.

And as happens when you do too much of anything, it invaded my dreams last night. Let me spell that out for you - I dreamt about the Real Housewives.

Perhaps I should focus less on Bravo and more on A&E and shows of the "Intervention" type genre so as to learn a lesson from my TV viewing?

So as to not have lost an entire weekend, I feel that I must share my observations on the various trials and tribulations that I witnessed - I'm curious to see if you agree:

I love Bethenny. And I cried like a baby when she was going through all of the awfulness that comes with losing a parent. My heart just broke for her.
I think Bethenny's new assistant Max has the best job in the world. And I love that Jason felt it necessary to "pee a circle" around Bethenny and their home when he first met Max.
Max's comment as to whether her "generation" likes to grind made me spit out my drink.
While I like Alex's new found testicles, I thought her act of delivering a message for Bethenny to Jill was infantile, and her looks are becoming weirdly shaped. She's almost more "blocky" than last season if that makes sense? As far as the neck splotches from being nervous or upset? Girl, I sympathize.
I really want Jill and Bethenny to make up - that whole fight made me so sad.
I still can't get "Money Can't Buy You Class" out of my head - especially the "my friends" part. But I liked that Luann was a bit more vulnerable this season.
Ramona walking down the runway of the Brooklyn fashion show was one of the FUNNIEST things I have ever seen. In my life.
Sonja? Eh. She seems pretty cool - I'm sure I'll get to like her more next season.
Kelly? Honestly - I can't even get into it. She's a post all by herself. Satchels of gold? Rainbows? Wearing fur while supporting PETA and denouncing the abuse of animals? That girls needs therapy and honestly it made me sad for her and her children.
Teresa is dumb as a rock. But I still love her. Insulting someone by saying their vagina is a long as a tunnel? Not the point girl - I think you missed the boat on that one.
Danielle makes me feel like I need a shower after I watch her.
I love Dina. Love her. And I'm sad that she left the show.

Believe me, I know what kind of TV this is meant to be - it's not meant to change my life or make me a better person (clearly) - but is anyone else kind of annoyed that every scene involved a group of self-centered women fighting about who said what and who did what and trying to prove points? UGH. If I had to live my live that way, I would be pretty annoyed. But then again, I'd probably just "remove the toxic people" from my life and move on (seriously, is that the most over-used phrased?).

Okay, I'm off to regenerate my brain-cells by watching "Nova," or "Life" (on mute of course because I can't stand Oprah's narration).

Oh wait, never mind - I see my DVR has taped another episode of RHONJ....

I Scream, You Scream - The Case of the Screaming Ice Cream

2010-06-07T08:00:00.001-05:00

The other night I made an ill-advised trip to the grocery store to pick up a few things that I had "forgotten" on my main stocking-up-for-the-week's-menu trip. (When I say "forgotten," I mean more like "abandoned." I usually plan out our menus and make one major trip every other week, but I often get burnt out towards the end of the trip and just say f-it to a few items. I know, I should probably change my plan, right?).

Anyway, while I was at HEB, an Armageddon-like storm passed over Austin. I mean, I could hear the hail hitting the roof of the store. Over the muzak! I freaked out for my little truck sitting alone in the parking lot and ran to the check-out. But, on the way I passed the frozen food section and I grabbed some chocolate ice cream for my love (he loves his chocolate ice cream, yo).

Fast forward to last night and this conversation took place:

Him: Did you write me a message in the ice cream?

Me:     Um, what?

Him:     Did you write something in the ice cream when you bought it?

Me:     ??????

Him: Look

It might be hard to see in the picture since I took it with my Blackberry, but someone - I'm assuming it was human although that's debatable at this point - stuck their dirty finger into the ice cream and wrote "NO."

What the hell is wrong with people? Did that fulfill some type of weird need? I'm sorry, but if your fetish involves the frozen food section of the grocery store YOU NEED HELP. Serious and long term help.

Needless to say, we both agreed that his frozen after-dinner treat was not going to happen that night. But I told him to put it back in the freezer because I am heading back to the grocery store to suggest some heightened security for the freezers.

Things That Disturb Me - Part ∞

2010-06-04T08:00:00.002-05:00

What? I've been remiss in posting you say? I must admit that I lost my blogging juju lately - but I can feel it coming back. I have many thoughtful and profound posts in my head, they just haven't made it into reality yet. But I miss my friends and your comments, and since you always make me feel better when I'm down, I have to share some things that are making me sad lately:

1. The passing of one my favorite women - Southern or otherwise:

2. That someone could EVER consider wearing these abominations on their feet:

3. The fact that we are abusing our planet so horrifically - yes, the BP spill is horrendous, but they aren't the only problem and I feel somewhat helpless in the grand scheme of things:

I can't even bring myself to post pictures of the actual damage - I found myself in tears as I looked at the birds struggling for life and the dead dolphins. I haven't considered myself very active in my consciousness of the damage to our environment, but I've honestly had enough and feel that something has to change.

4. The fact that in three weeks my little Murphy will have been gone for a year - I just can't even wrap my head around that fact. Jack has brought us SO much happiness and I love him so much, but I still miss my Fuzzy:

5. Fathers' Day - just makes me miss my dead Daddy all the more - if that were even possible:

There's a lot making me happy lately as well, but honestly, I just need to purge the melancholy so I can get on with life and stop bitching! I've just had an overall feeling of 'ick' lately and I feel as if I'm seeing bad omens around me. For example, I've had to pass three different dead animals on my way to work the past few days - a deer, a coyote and a bird. (Oh my gosh if the 20-year-old version of me that lived in Manhattan and went out every night could just hear that statement...).

So I'm going to focus on "purging the melancholy" - you with me? Get it out there!

The Balancing Act

2010-04-12T06:33:00.000-05:00

I've heard people refer to as a balacing act and to be honest - I think I finally understand the quote. I received an offer for a new job about a week and half ago and I accepted. A day after accepting, I had to head out of town to my in-laws in Louisiana for Easter and my mother-in-law's belated birthday celebration. I started work last Monday morning after driving 5.5 hours each way on Friday and Sunday.

The work week was exciting and my new co-workers are amazing - but it was busy and I find myself attempting, once again, the balance of work in an office and life. It's not going very well. My first day of work, we ate dinner around 9:30 p.m. and I forgot to feed the dog.

But I know it will get better. And I know I will be happier.

In the meantime, I've become the kind of person that lives for the weekend (so that I can catch up on everything else in my life). This weekend was busy, busy, busy! On the plus side: it included dog grooming, some house cleaning (changing bed linens and cleaning the bedroom and kitchen), patio furniture washing, patio and driveway sweeping, book-keeping for my husband's business, book-keeping for my business, laundry, breakfast at IHOP, trips to Lowe's and a local nursery, and massive amounts of outdoor landscaping (done mostly by my husband as I did all of the aforementioned cleaning/financial tasks, but I helped a little). I had many more thinsg on my "to do" list, but I'm beginning to realize that I was optimistic in my thoughts.

I'm thrilled about the the outdoor work - we now have a vegetable garden that includes tomatoes, heirloom tomatoes, bell peppers, spaghetti squash, cucumbers and various jalapenos.

And we removed a crazy-ass bunch of weeds from one of our side-flower beds (ironically, the only bed that cannot be seen from the curb) and landscaped it with perennials.

Any hints on how to ease my transition back to the 9-5 life? Right now, we're out of food and our clothes have been at the dry-cleaners for more time than they should, but like I said, we have flowers.

Step 1 - find a cleaning person!

Life

2010-03-25T14:20:00.000-05:00

As sometimes happens, life has gotten in the way of blogging. I have many balls in the air right now and I'm not a great juggler. So instead of trying to be a great writer, I'll sum life up in bullet/photo form as I've seen done around the blogosphere:

My mom finally got her cast off her leg yesterday. Her surgery was February 8th. And she still managed to attend the Saint Patrick's Day parade in NYC and grace the presence of many New York news shows with her photograph. For example:

She showed her Irish spirit despite her age (she'd kill me if I told you but it rhymes with eleventy-schmoo) and her cast than most - and I'm proud of her! (Even though she subjected me to years of Irish Step Dancing as a child).

My dog has recently started peeing all over the house, and most often, in his own bed. This goes against everything I've heard about dogs and where they'll relieve themselves...so I'm hoping that he has some sort of minor infection and that he's not entering his rebellious teenage years already.
In other news, my husband pulled this out of his mouth the other day:

What is that you ask? IT'S A SQUIRREL FOOT! (Paw? I don't know). Anyway, the poor guy is at the vet as we speak getting some tests run since perhaps it's not in his best interest to, ya' know, eat rotting rodent meat.

While the rest of the county was celebrating or tearing their gamrets at the passage of the Health Care Reform act, I was celebrating an historical moment all of my own - as I was watching CNN my husband inquired from the other room, "Where do we keep the vacuum cleaner?" I - was shocked to say the least. (No, not at the actual fact he didn't know where we kept the vacuum - that he actually cared where it was, as if to use it!). He proceeded to then vacuum the entire couch and condition the leather. I have photographic evidence yo':

Yes, the picture is kind of blurry. It's to take a picture with you Blackberry from a distance when you are lying in bed eating bon-bons.

I bought Jack a new toy - a stuffed duck. It's fuzzy and he liked it:

He then proceed to mistake the fuzzy texture of my fake Uggs and my slippers for his beloved Quacky and they are now R.I.P. (Really, isn't one of the beauties of fake Uggs/Fuggs that you can buy a new pair every year?).

My husband spent the majority of last weekend on the couch with a heating pad strapped to his back. FROM WEEDING! The boy is obsessed with his lawn. We raced to get some weed-n-feed down before some major storms hit last night and we're crossing our fingers that the lush green lawn that was prsent when we bought the house will make a reappearance. Otherwise, I suspect the neighbors will laugh at our expense. (And we'll deserve it).

Weeds

2010-03-10T17:06:00.000-06:00

When we moved into our new home last July, the lawn was lush and thick and green and the envy of our neighborhood. In fact, one of the main reasons that we loved the house was the large lot filled with green grass.

But thanks to a horrendous drought AND our inexperience with this type of lawn, we mistook the green lusciousness that recently sprouted for a harbinger of spring and good times to come.

Not so much. I am the Nancy Botwin version of the kind of weed that you can't smoke and/or make money from.

I do NOT look like the mistress of ficticious weed that we all know and love.

My beloved husband has, for the past two weeks, been on his hands and knees HAND WEEDING our over almost 3/4 acre lot. I do not share his love/obsession with the green stuff. It makes me itch just to look at it. But the guilt got to me and today I offered help.

And naturally, what was in my fourth handful of weeds? A SNAKE.

Let's just say that if Showtime every tried to do my version of weeds, the logo would look like this:

I have a lovely dinner date planned tonight with two of my favorite ladies....I just hope I can get the stench of onion grass out of my hair.

Here's Johnny! (Except it's not - it's "Jack" - but it's the only cool quote I could find from my previously favorite Jack. Maybe I should just use "Honey, I'm Home.")

2010-02-23T12:33:00.000-06:00

As many of you already know, we made an important leap on Friday and opened our home and hearts once again to a little one of the furry four-footed variety. (He doesn't like to look at the camera).

He was originally named something else - but after a bit of debate on our part, we didn't think it suited him and we went with Jack. (This has cause some confusion with regard to his paperwork. Also, I bought a $10 name tag with his old name. But it suits him). He wasn't really answering when we called him by the previous name, herein after "TPN," so I allowed Allen to pick the name. Believe me, this was the least offensive of the bunch.

Here he is dutifully answering to his new name.

We had a few flase starts on the first night - he didn't seem to understand the concept of a bed - or at least a bed that he didn't have to share with anyone else.

When I tried to explain the concept to him, he seemed sort of grumpy.

But we're thrilled with the life he's brought to our empty house. I had a wonderful recommendation from a friend, and we located Jack through Austin Pets Alive.

And see, he's bright - he figured out the bed thing pretty quickly.

We'll head to the vet for a check-up tomorrow and then obedience class on Thursday...but we think this will be the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.

A Belated Valentine's Day Post

2010-02-22T11:11:00.001-06:00

004, originally uploaded by TUWABVB.

Since I spent the majority of my Valentine's Day either in the state of New Jersey, or in the air...I suspected that there would be no "celebration" of our love. In fact, my flight was scheduled to land only moments before the holiday ended AND my brother-in-law was visiting. Not exactly the recipe for romance, right? WRONG!

I don't think anything says "I love you" quite like a little Napoleon Dynamite (by the way, how is that movie even still relevant given that it was made years ago? Maybe he got a discount on the card - which makes me love him even more).

The Married Version of "Sexting"

2010-02-17T18:57:00.000-06:00

The night before I left for New Jersey a pivotal part of my plan failed - our three month old laptop died. DIED. Just stopped working.

Granted - it's our secondary computer...so not a lot of information was lost, but it was still a major inconvenience because (1) my husband had just finished six hours of work that he had not yet saved on his main computer and (2) I needed to take the craptop with me to get some work done while I was away.

I traveled up North hoping to use my mom's Playskool version of a laptop to get a last minute project done for work. Except her computer has the crack-whore version of Windows known as Vista. It wouldn't open my Excel files and I worked for hours trying to find a viable alternative.

Have I ever mentioned that my husband was an IT consultant in a previous life? In fact, that's how we met...but I digress. I texted him no fewer than 25 times asking for help and feeling sorry for myself.

But then I figured out the problem and fixed it myself - it was truly a week-before-Presidents' Day-miracle. So I sent my husband this text:

Me: I rule! (Imagine red rose petals strewn around a naked Mena Suavari).

Him: Me too. Imagine me just being my bad ass self. I was able to hook the laptop drive to my desktop and get the data off.

Me: You definitely rule more. You are the pumped up Kevin Spacey to my teenage cheerleader.

Him: Scratch that. The whole machine froze up and freaked out. What a POS.

And that, my readers, is the efficiency of marriage...the ability to start, ruin and finish a fantasy all in three minutes via a few typed out words.

A Story of a Boy and His Cat

2010-02-08T23:02:00.000-06:00

I think I've made it pretty clear that my husband is an animal lover. Currently. He wasn't always that way. It's not that he didn't like our furry counterparts, he just didn't attach the status of "family member" to his pets. Until he met "my" dog Murphy and subsequently fell in love. I often joke that he dated me for my dog. (He wasn't a huge fan of Riley, but Riley wasn't a huge fan of his either which actually cracked me up - but that's a story for another day). As I've stated before, he was devastated when we lost Murphy - we both were, but he took it really hard and it broke my heart.

However his heart is finally showing signs of mending, slowly but surely. Recently, after months of rejecting my overtures, he began to speak of the possibility of new dogs. He's even looked at a few pictures of shelter dogs that I found promising. He mentioned various renovations that we need to do around the house and whether we should go some before others since they would interfere with pets.

But the most important sign of a healing heart has been a flirtacious game of - well, cat and mouse, that he's been playing with a local stray.

His family always had cats growing up. In fact, his dad still has a photo of the last family cat as the background image on his cell phone even though he died over three years ago. It's likely that we can't ever have cat because I'm allergic. (Also can't stand something that poops in a designated indoor box and whose food makes me vomit in my mouth. But really they do make me sneeze a lot).

The first time we spotted our little friend, he was sitting by Murphy's grave in our backyard (calm down, we only buried his ashes and have a nice plant as a headstone -we're not crazy!). The second time, he was there too. And the third and the fourth. One night we were sitting on the deck and we spotted him again - and the truth came out...he was convinced the cat had Murphy's spirit. (Yes, there was copious amounts of red wine involved, why do you ask?) Well, my heart broke and melted at the same time and I vowed I would be supportive and helpful in this little courtship.

But M2, as he's come to be called, or the Deuce (which I don't like as much because it sounds like poop) is fickle and untrusting and there's been little to no progress over the past few months. Every time we spot M2, my husband runs to the door and starts mewing like a madman - and the cat just runs away.

The other day I was home alone in the house and something caught my eye on our back deck:

(Please ignore the HORRIFIC chain link fence along our side yard which I swear will be replaced soon). There he was, asleep on our hot tub within a few steps distance of our back door. I was ecstatic. Later that night, he returned and sat on the deck looking in our TV room. He was hungry, my husband insisted, and I scrambled to provide tuna on some paper plates. He put the food on the deck and we sat inside and held our breath. And M2 came and ate and ran away again.

The next night, he appeared again. Just sitting on the deck looking down at his paws - he seemed somewhat despondent. We scrambled again and I grabbed some leftover salmon from the fridge. He ate again then ran to hide in the bushes.

Saturday was a busy day as I prepared for a week-long trip to New Jersey to help my mom after surgery. I headed to the grocery store to stock the house before I left - a bit of a tradition between my husband and me and one that brings me a bit of comfort before I leave - and we made the serious decision to commit. And commit I did - I bought a bowl and some cat food. We put the bowl on the deck that night and held our breath but he didn't show. It was suggested that feeding him leftover pecan-crusted salmon from Central Market might not have been the best idea and he was likely lying dead from a nut allergy somewhere in the neighborhood. I rolled my eyes and kept my thoughts to myself - this cat had managed to survive "on the streets" if you will, but my gourmet left-over salmon had killed him? I think not.

Later that night I realized that I was only going to get about two hours of sleep before the car came to pick me up at 6: 00 a.m. and I sat on the couch, tired, cranky and dreading the trip. Manbug was asleep and I was feeling lonely and afraid. And what did I see out of the corner of my eye. A feline shaped band-aid enjoying a feast out of his new bowl - he looked up, saw me and then kept on eating as if to say, "Baby steps...baby steps."

Paint My House

2010-01-25T15:42:00.002-06:00

Did anybody ever hear the joke about the prostitute who promises a "prospective client" that she'll do anything he requests for $50 as long as he can describe it in three words? He excitedly responds - "Paint my house."

If I had met that prostitute this weekend, I would have said "Organize my closet." Seriously. Believe it or not, the closet that we had in our temporary apartment home prior to buying our house was larger than the pathetic excuse that currently resides in our master bedroom. Mind you, the master bedroom is going to require massive renovations if we ever want to sell this house - and we realized that moving in. But I naively thought I could "make do" with the closet until we finally reached renovation time.

I was wrong.

I spent the entire weekend, and I mean 10:00 a.m. - 9:00 p.m. on Saturday, and 1:00 p.m. until 9:30 p.m. on Sunday, cleaning and reorganizing our entire master suite to create sufficient and accessible storage for our clothing and other paraphernalia - also known as "crap."

The good? I have at least 15 garbage bags of things ready to donate to charity. The bad? We had 15 bags of expendable stuff cluttering up our space. The ugly? Some of the stuff in those bags hasn't been worn for YEARS.

The problem I'm having with decorating this room is simple - it is all temporary. In other words, I don't want to commit a lot of time and money to the room until the renovations are done - even though that might not be for another year or so. But I reached my breaking point, so recently I purchased new sheets, new pillows, a new duvet and new duvet cover, new dust ruffle, new shams - well, you get the picture - so it truly was redecorating and cleaning weekend in the casa. And I'm exhausted.

Here are some of the main points of the overall "temporary" decorating scheme:

Want to see some very scary before and after pictures of our tiny closet? THE HORROR!!!

BEFORE:

Notice all the flio-flops and sandals? Yea, I hadn't even unpacked our winter clothes yet. So I packed up the summer frocks, unpacked the winter sweaters, etc. and reoganized the whole thing. (I even gave my husband MORE room than he originally had - I know, I'm a saint).

AFTER:

Impressive, no?

I feel I must share a product that I was introduced to on Saturday at Bed, Bath and Beyond from someone I can only assume owns too much clothing (she explained that she had purchased over 300 of these little miracle).

***(Please note that I wasn't compensated in any way for this review - I simply heard about the product, walked back to the aisle where they were kept and purchased the last two boxes with my own hard-earned money).

Although the woman in line ahead of me suggested that I only purchase the original Huggable Hanger sold by Joy Mangano of "Miracle Mop" fame, I opted for the cheaper version "Slimline" that was on sale for $27.99 for a pack of 50.

Need I say more:

(Yes, they are grouped by color - I'm anal!)

Well, 2010 has been busy already....

2010-01-05T17:39:00.000-06:00

I hope that everyone had wonderful holidays! I have many stories to tell - about our travels afar - and the holidays, but I'm slammed with work as a result of being out of the country. I will right more tomorrow, but I had to share this picture that I came across while uploading my photos. It brings me a lot of peace.

We're Finally Sleeping Together Again

2009-12-16T08:23:00.001-06:00

In fact, last night was the first night that I shared our "marital bed" since December 5, 2009. That's a long time right? I could tell that we were both getting used to having a queen size bed to ourselves and if I didn't rip off the proverbial band-aid, we were doomed to a 1960s sitcom existence in separate rooms, not just beds. It's been awhile since we had pillow talk - so last night was especially interesting:

Manbug: Since we are going on a cruise for Christmas, are we going to exchange gifts, or can the trip be our gift?
Me: The trip is our gift - we're not going to tote presents on a trip. I need that luggage space for shoes.
Manbug: Okay...but are you really saying that I don't need to get a gift, or are you saying that I "don't need to get a gift" (uses actual air quotes) but that I should know better and get a gift anyway?
Me: You do NOT need to get me a gift! We are good.
Manbug: But are we good in that we are "good," (annoying air quotes again) but that I should know better and get you a gift anyway?
Me: Oh my God - do not get me a gift. I am not getting you a gift and we are going to have the "gift" of $7 pina coladas and sunburned shoulders on Christmas.
Manbug: But are we having the gift....
Me: Shut the hell up! If you are so paranoid, buy me a fucking gift on the boat!
Manbug: But it will be marked up so much.
Sigh. We then turned to more important issues, namely, the fact that we had been sleeping apart for ten days:

Me: Did you miss me sleeping in here?
Manbug: Um, yes. So, should we have sex to like, commemorate the end of the separate sleeping arrangements?
Me: No.
Manbug: I mean, we were like two days away from "I Love Lucy."
Me: But they slept in the same room with different beds. We were in different rooms.
Manbug: Was that kid on their show their real child, or an actor?
Me: I think it was their real kid.
Manbug: (puzzled look).
Me: I don't think they had separate beds in their real bedroom - you know, the one not on TV. They didn't actually live in that apartment.
Manbug: ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz (he took Nyquil too)

EDITED TO ADD: Because of an email conversation with one of my lovely readers, I feel compelled to confirm that I did NOT wet the bed in yeterday's post. I had thought my story relayed the fact it was the open water bottle, but just in case, it was the open water bottle!

The Power of Nyquil and Walmart Compels You

2009-12-15T08:00:00.001-06:00

I woke up the other morning to a wet bed. And my husband and I have been sleeping in separate beds for the past ten days, so I can't even blame him.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...
If you follow me on Twitter (or have talked to me in the last week), you know that I have been sick. For a LONG time. Actually, I was sick about a week and a half ago, started to feel better, and then was reinfected with a different sort of sickness by my beloved husband. Currently, our little household is battling some of the nastiest coughs that I have heard outside of the slot machine section at an Atlantic City casino. Nothing else seems to be wrong...just cough, cough, cough. Of course, the incessant coughing leads to headaches and sore throats, but those aren't related to whatever little one-celled critter is mooching off our immune systems.

It's been a vicious cycle. Each night I would go to bed thinking that I would do to the doctor the next morning, and each morning I thought I felt better...until the day progressed and I started to feel horrible again, and well - you see the pattern.

Wednesday night, before retiring in the guest room (our coughing has been waking each other up so we've taken to sleeping in separate rooms) I took a cough version of the Nyquil narcotic line. In the middle of the night, I woke up coughing and reached for my trusty bottle of water to quash the hacking.

Sometime in the .008 seconds between taking the sip of water, and replacing the cap, I fell back asleep. The Nyquil was SO strong, that it caused me to fall asleep in the blink of an eye, and STAY asleep despite the immense soaking near my right shoulder.

Needless to say, I woke up the next morning and went to the doctor. Who prescribed a cough medicine with codeine so that I could sleep better. (HA!). I went to get that and some other prescriptions filled and was told that this cough medicine was $134 and the rest of the medicine $151. WHAT? That medicine better get rid of my cough, wash my sheets and make me some tea for that price! I left the pharmacy and decided to head to Wal-Mart instead - I had recalled seeing an ad in which they stated they had low prices for prescriptions or something of that sort.

I rarely go to Wal-Mart. Why you ask? First off, I prefer Target and there is a Target just about 1/2 mile past Wal-Mart. Second - and honestly, the truthful answer? I am TERRIFIED of getting caught in there on a less than fashionable day and getting pictured on this site. I would DIE.

Not surprisingly, Wal-Mart's prices for the three prescriptions that I had to fill, $85 less than the pharmacy. I think I'll risk a fashion faux pas immortalized on the Internet for that amount of money any day.
But I declined to purchase the $134 cough medicine - because really, the Nyquil is..............zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Austin BlogHer Holiday Party

2009-12-01T10:24:00.000-06:00

Join us at Central Market Cafe on North Lamar for some holiday mingling. Austin and Central Texas bloggers and tweeters, bring non-perishable foods to donate to the Capital Area Food Bank. There will be a scale to see just how many pounds of food we can collect, so break out those coupons, shop those sales, and bring those nonperishable donations!

We will have holiday goodies for y'all to snack on, and feel free to step away and order yourself dinner and/or a drink - whatever you need most after a long day.

DATE:     Thursday, December 3rd

PLACE:    Central Market Cafe, 4001 N Lamar (map)

TIME:     7-9pm (or if you just can't stop networking when they close, the party can certainly move elsewhere)

DONATE:     CAFB specifically asks for: canned meats like tuna, stew and chili (pop-tops preferred), canned vegetables, pasta and pasta sauce, beans, rice, healthy cereals, peanut butter and baby food and baby formula.

RSVP/QUESTIONS: Leave a comment below, or email skyekilaen@gmail.com.

P.S. We will make sure you can tell which tables are ours.

Catch Up and Happy Thanksgiving

2009-11-24T09:27:00.000-06:00

Yes, I too have noticed my sporadic absences around these parts - I'm doing my best, but sometimes life just gets in the way. Lately too - I've needed to take a step away from my computer and get on with living life. That being said, I only really have to catch you up on two major issues:

I turned 41 on Saturday. Ick to the age part, yea to the birthday gifts and sushi dinner part.

My husband and I have decided to rescind our invitations for Christmas this year. We've had a rough year - all work and no play. As a result, we're taking a cruise over Christmas and not worrying about decorating or gifts or cooking or anything for that matter. As of right now, it looks like my in-laws won't be joining us but my mom will. So studly Manbug will have two ladies on his arm (and God bless him really because this should be interesting).

Today is a complicated maze of trying to get everything done before heading to the in-laws farm for Thanksgiving with over thirty-five relatives. So in that vein, I say:

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday, gets lots of food and naps and enjoys this special time of year!

That's What I Love About Texas!

2009-11-10T14:58:00.000-06:00

I received this email today from the lovely Left of Lost and I had to share - even though I'm an "adopted" Texan, you know I'm crazy about this place. This email proves why even more!

JUST TEXAS
Pep , Texas 79353
Smiley , Texas 78159
Paradise , Texas 76073
Rainbow , Texas 76077
Sweet Home , Texas 77987
Comfort , Texas 78013
Friendship, Texas 76530

Love the Sun?
Sun City , Texas 78628
Sunrise , Texas 76661
Sunset, Texas 76270
Sundown, Texas 79372
Sunray , Texas 79086
Sunny Side , Texas 77423

Want something to eat?
Bacon , Texas 76301
Noodle , Texas 79536
Oatmeal , Texas 78605
Turkey , Texas 79261
Trout , Texas 75789
Sugar Land , Texas 77479
Salty, Texas 76567
Rice , Texas 75155
Pearland , Texas 77581
Orange , Texas 77630
And top it off with:
Sweetwater , Texas 79556

Why travel to other cities? Texas has them all!
Detroit , Texas 75436
Cleveland , Texas 75436
Colorado City , Texas 79512
Denver City , Texas 79323
Klondike , Texas 75448
Nevada , Texas 75173
Memphis , Texas 79245
Miami , Texas 79059
Boston , Texas 75570
Santa Fe , Texas 77517
Tennessee Colony , Texas 75861
Reno , Texas 75462
Pasadena , Texas 77506
Columbus , Texas 78934

Feel like traveling outside the country?
Athens , Texas 75751
Canadian, Texas 79014
China , Texas 77613
Egypt , Texas 77436
Ireland , Texas 76538
Italy , Texas 76538
Turkey , Texas 79261
London , Texas 76854
New London , Texas 75682
Paris , Texas 75460
Palestine , Texas 75801

No need to travel to Washington D.C.
Whitehouse , Texas 75791

We even have a city named after our planet!
Earth , Texas 79031

We have a city named after our state
Texas City , Texas 77590

Exhausted?
Energy , Texas 76452

Cold?
Blanket , Texas 76432
Winters, Texas

Like to read about History?
Santa Anna , Texas
Goliad , Texas
Alamo , Texas
Gun Barrel City , Texas
Robert Lee , Texas

Need Office Supplies?
Staples, Texas 78670

Want to go into outer space?
Venus , Texas 76084
Mars , Texas 79062

You guessed it. It's on the state line.
Texline , Texas 79087

For the kids...
Kermit , Texas 79745
Elmo , Texas 75118
Nemo , Texas 76070
Tarzan , Texas 79783
Winnie , Texas 77665
Sylvester , Texas 79560

Other city names in Texas , to make you smile......
Frognot , Texas 75424
Bigfoot , Texas 78005
Hogeye , Texas 75423
Cactus , Texas 79013
Notrees , Texas 79759
Best, Texas 76932
Veribest , Texas 76886
Kickapoo , Texas 75763
Dime Box , Texas 77853
Old Dime Box , Texas 77853
Telephone , Texas 75488
Telegraph , Texas 76883
Whiteface , Texas 79379
Twitty, Texas 79079

And last but not least, the Anti-Al Gore City
Kilgore , Texas 75662

And our favorites...
Cut n Shoot, Texas
Gun Barrell City , Texas
Hoop And Holler, Texas
Ding Dong, Texas and, of course,
Muleshoe , Texas

You May Live in Texas...

If someone in a Lowe's store offers you assistance and they don't work there, you may live in Texas
If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you may live in Texas
If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you may live in Texas
If 'Vacation' means going anywhere south of Dallas for the weekend, you may live in Texas
If you measure distance in hours, you may live in Texas
If you know several people who have hit a deer more than once, you may live in Texas
If you install security lights on your house and garage, but leave both unlocked, you may live in Texas
If you carry jumper cables in your car and your wife knows how to use them, you may live in Texas
If the speed limit on the highway is 55 mph --you're going 80 and everybody's passing you, you may live in Texas
If you find 60 degrees 'a little chilly,' you may live in Texas
If you actually understand these jokes, and share them with all your Texas friends, you definitely live in Texas

Here are some little known, very interesting facts about Texas .

Beaumont to El Paso : 742 miles
Beaumont to Chicago : 770 miles
El Paso is closer to California than to Dallas
World's first rodeo was in Pecos , July 4, 1883
The Flagship Hotel in Galveston is the only hotel in North America built over water. Destroyed by Hurricane Ike -2008!
The Heisman Trophy was named after John William Heisman who was the first full-time coach at Rice University in Houston
Brazoria County has more species of birds than any other area in North America
Aransas Wildlife Refuge is the winter home of North America 's only remaining flock of whooping cranes
Jalapeno jelly originated in Lake Jackson in 1978
The worst natural disaster in U.S. history was in 1900, caused by a hurricane, in which over 8,000 lives were lost on Galveston Island
The first word spoken from the moon, July 20,1969, was " Houston ," but the space center was actually in Clear Lake City at the time
King Ranch in South Texas is larger than Rhode Island
Tropical Storm Claudette brought a U.S. rainfall record of 43' in 24 hours in and around Alvin in July of 1979
Texas is the only state to enter the U.S. by TREATY, (known as the Constitution of 1845 by the Republic of Texas to enter the Union ) instead of by annexation. This allows the Texas Flag to fly at the same height as the U.S. Flag, and may divide into 5 states
A Live Oak tree near Fulton is estimated to be 1500 years old
Caddo Lake is the only natural lake in the state
Dr Pepper was invented in Waco in 1885. There is no period in Dr Pepper
Texas has had six capital cities: Washington -on- the Brazos, Harrisburg , Galveston ,Velasco, West Columbia and Austin
The Capitol Dome in Austin is the only dome in the U.S. which is taller than the Capitol Building in Washington DC (by 7 feet)
The San Jacinto Monument is the tallest free standing monument in the world and it is taller than the Washington monument
The name ' Texas ' comes from the Hasini Indian word 'tejas' meaning friends. Tejas is not Spanish for Texas
The State Mascot is the Armadillo (an interesting bit of trivia about the armadillo is they always have four babies. They have one egg, which splits into four, and they either have four males or four females
The first domed stadium in the U.S. was the Astrodome in Houston

Cowboy's Ten Commandments posted on the wall at Cross Trails Church in Fairlie , Texas :
(1) Just one God.
(2) Honor yer Ma & Pa.
(3) No telling tales or gossipin'.
(4) Git yourself to Sunday meeting.
(5) Put nothin' before God.
(6) No foolin' around with another fellow's gal.
(7) No killin'.
(8) Watch yer mouth.
(9) Don't take what ain't yers.
(10) Don't be hankerin' for yer buddy's stuff.

Y'all git all that?

Never Attempt Conversation Before Four Cups of Coffee

2009-11-03T09:16:00.007-06:00

Scene: Manbug and I are sitting in our respective "offices" - separated by a hallway.
(His is truly an office. Mine? It's the guest room with a desk. A very, very small desk. This must be remedied soon).

Sound: In the distance, I hear Manbug's email alert go off - I may have mentioned this before, but he has set a personal alert on his Outlook, so that when he receives an email, you hear the following from his computer (the relevant statement starts around 9 seconds and ends around 12):

In order to put context to this story, please understand that my husband receives no fewer than 200 emails a day. That's a lot of Scarface for one woman to handle.

Audience hears the tortured voice of Al Pacino in the distance..."All I have in this world is my balls, and my word."

Me: (grumpy only having ingested four sips of coffee) That doesn't even make sense!

Manbug: What do you mean it doesn't make sense? It's a very profound statement.

Me: How so?

Manbug: All he has - all he can rely on - is what he says, and his nut sac. And by nut sac he means himself.

Me: You're not helping your argument.

Manbug: Well, nut sac is a euphemism for himself. He means all he has is himself (I hear a "thump" from the other room - I can only assume Manbug thumped his chest for affect) - he's including his arms and legs of course.

Me: Actually, I think that's the exact definition of the opposite of euphemism.

Mabug: (barrels on paying no heed to my lesson in correct usage of the word euphemism) It just wouldn't sound as sexy if he said, "All I have in this world is my left arm, meaning my entire body, and my word."

Me: Noted.

Off in the distance the audience again hears the tortured voice of Al Pacino, "All I have in this world is my balls, and my word." Both characters sip on their morning coffee and hope that they get smarter as the day progresses.

End scene.

Weekend Recap - Um, From Last Weekend Too

2009-11-02T12:25:00.000-06:00

I've been a bad blogger - the weekend out-of-town threw off my schedule so I'm going to catch you up on all the "exciting" (read "completely boring") goings-on in my life. I've seen the bullet-form blog post used in a lot of different places, but I give credit to all who have gone before me in this creative tool to get the writing juices flowing - not my idea. Here you go:

LAST WEEKEND:

The weekend in BFE, Louisiana was relaxing - there were naps, and gun shooting and lots of home-cooked meals and birthday cake.
There was also another Giants' loss and much ribbing from my beloved father-in-law to their loss the previous week to a certain NFL team from Louisiana.
Manbug and I had a HUGE fight on Friday night - the night before his birthday. When we woke up Saturday morning, I wasn't even sure that I was going to go with him. But after a heartfelt apology and a pathetic "This birthday sucks" statement, I hopped in the shower, forgave him and drove the entire five hours so he could do some work in the car. It was a perfect day for a drive.
Fights suck but making-up rocks (especially when it wasn't your fault.). :)
When raccoons get hit by cars, their corpses look like they are resting peacefully on their front paws as they gaze at traffic. I know this because we saw at least 25 dead raccoons on the side of the road (I stopped keeping count after that).
The bed in one of my in-laws' guestrooms is a double and my husband rolled on top of me in his sleep no fewer than 10 times in the two nights we slept there. We are barely surviving with a queen, so a double is just not-doable.
Sadly, most of the relaxation from the weekend was erased on the drive home - POURING rain and lots of logging trucks on the two-lane highway that brings us back to Austin. The previous five hour trip took us SEVEN hours. SEVEN.

THIS WEEKEND (MEANING THIS PAST WEEKEND, NOT THIS UPCOMING WEEKEND):

I'm going to consider our first Halloween in our new home a "success" - we had a good number of trick-or-treaters and I only stuck my foot in my mouth three times (sometimes I just panic around kids - not sure why).
Our over-flowing bowl of candy was reduced to about a handful!
There are no street-lamps in our neighborhood so it gets very, very dark. We lined our walkway with these to help kids find their way -

The directions on these little treasures advise you to fill the bag with sand. FYI - Lowe's only sells bags of sand, the smallest of which was 50 pounds. What the hell was I supposed to do with the other 49 1/2 pounds?
So instead, I thought I would buy the smallest bag of "crap to weigh down a small bag" available in the Garden Department - a small bag of polished stones that are meant for decorative ponds. But this tiny bag was $34! The semi-comatose employee in that department said they were $10 - which I explained to the cashier. She ended up giving them to me for that price because there was a hole in the bag (mind you, someone was going to find a fully broken-open bag under some shelving that night. Ahem. It was HEAVY!).
So here are my sad pathetic attempts at capturing our house on Halloween night:

Can you see in that last picture how dark our freaking neighborhood gets! It's truly scary.
Thankfully, my husband's choice of movies for that night wasn't all that scary - so I didn't get too afraid. The movie, "Nuke' Em High," contained lines such as "I don't give a wet fart what you think" and "Make like a hockey stick and get the puck out of here." It was truly, one of his worst picks - but we watched it through to the end.

So, in short - we didn't really celebrate Halloween, but it was a pretty good weekend. I hope everyone had a great time!

P.S. Can someone PLEASE tell me if there is a way to spellcheck on the new version of blogger? I CAN'T STAND THIS!

Blackout

2009-10-24T00:09:00.000-05:00

I'm going black.

It is my husband's 36th birthday tomorrow (in 8 minutes). We have had a horrific time of it as of late. We are going to run away this weekend and not talk to anyone. Except each other. And perhaps his family (since we'll be staying at their house).

I gave him his gifts: 18 year old Scotch, 3 9 year old cigars, a 1.5 hour massage, a reserved/prepaid Call of Duty game that is released on Nov. 10th, Bottlecaps, a Hershey bar, socks, two shirts and a movie.

Our real gift is a trip we plan to take in December (god willing).

And I plan to enjoy it to the nth degree. But in the meantime, please wish the man that I love a Happy Birthday!

You Look...eh, Okay Tonight

2009-10-19T18:50:00.000-05:00

Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight" came on the radio today when I was returning from some errand-running and I was immediately transported back in time to my freshman year of college. I recalled sitting on a friend's bed as she picked out the "perfect outfit" for the big night ahead. She was debating giving up her virginity that night to her boyfriend and explained that he wanted their song to be "Wonderful Tonight" because he always thought of her when Eric sings "brushing her long blond hair."

I had many thoughts at the time - they ranged from (1) That is the most shallow song I've ever heard - clearly the guy is only concerned with the way the woman looks and not how she feels, to (2) doesn't he just get drunk and fall asleep at the end of the night and finally, and most importantly, (3) how in God's name did you manage to graduate high school a virgin?

[Please don't be shocked at this revelation. No, I wasn't a virgin when I got married at the decrepit old age of 37. My high school and classmates were very, very similar to the "90210" plot-line. Seriously].

Bless her heart - she ended up having sex with him - not that night, but a few weeks later during a school break. I was happy for her. Even though I knew there was a cheesey ballad playing in the background when her cherry was popped.

As my mind returned to the present - I burst out laughing. I thought of the song that was playing when I first "did the deed" and honestly, where the heck did I get off judging?

If the category was "Best Soundtrack for Sex," I did not win the prize. Especially if the subcategory was "First Time."

Granted, I still think of that moment when I hear the song - but it was a bad song.

I can't even bring myself to tell you the song, but let's just say that it involved Nicole Richie's father and he had a feeling down deep in his soul that he just can't lose.

I had a much happier song-related memory as I was getting my hair cut this weekend. A bride was in the chair next to having her hair done for her wedding day, over the hair dryers I heard the song that my husband and I chose as our first dance at our reception.

Let's just say that I'm happy that Mr. White trumped Mr. Richie when all was said and done.

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

2009-10-09T15:41:00.000-05:00

My husband isn't a big one for public displays of affection. Or talking about emotions. In fact, he's not one for grand gestures at all. Then again, I blame Hollywood for my intense need to have someone's love validated by holding up a boom box outside my bedroom window or riding an actual white horse into my classroom while wearing knight's armor. (By the way, I don't teach and I'm never in a classroom).

I can actually remember the specific dates for the last time he bought me flowers (March 19, 2009 - surprised me with a huge bouquet at the airport when he picked me up after a week's trip solo to NYC) or jewelry (December 25, 2008).

That being said, sometimes he does these amazing little gestures that melt my heart.

My husband has turned into a fanatical lawn guy since we bought our new house in July. Granted, we were gifted with a GORGEOUS lawn, but he drank the suburban Kool-Aid and he's turned Hank Hill to a certain degree now. The last few weeks, he has been unable to mow the yard at all due to the hurricane-like rains that Austin has been receiving (of course, only on on the only days that he has the time to do yard work).

Last night, we had about an hour and a half before a new storm started. We raced outside so that he could mow the yard and I could sweep up the metric ton of leaves that the "beautiful and quaint" pecan tree poops onto our back deck every day.

It started to rain as we were finishing up and this morning I looked out to see this:

What is that you ask? Why do we have a "landing strip" in the otherwise Brazilian lawn of ours? Because I had mentioned, a few days ago, that I loved the small group of wildflowers that were blooming in this part of the yard.

So he mowed around them so I could enjoy them for a while longer.

Of course you can't because the picture doesn't really show them. I mentioned this and my husband insists that they closed for protection from the weather. In other words, they are "sleeping." We'll see.

Extended Deadline: When Pills Aren't Enough-Session II

2009-10-07T12:16:00.000-05:00

Please note that the deadline below for submitting your entriest has been extended until this Friday, October 9, 2009.

Announcing: When Pills Aren't Enough-Session II

2009-10-06T10:35:00.000-05:00

Well, it's that time again!

Basically, this is how it works:

You send an email to alittleleftoflost (at) gmail(dot)com in order to participate. Go ahead and give the link to your blog as well. Let her know if there is anything you do not want posted on your blog (such as cussing, sex issues, etc.).

Then you send your post. It can be about ANYTHING. Nothing is off-limits here.You are welcome to send all of it at once, in one email. In fact, I might lick your face if you do that, just to keep it simple for my overloaded brain.

I will send your post to another participating blogger to be posted on their blog. We will all post the guest posts on the same day.

If you wish to have an under-the-radar, sneeky pen name for your post, go right ahead. Just put it in the email. If you want your blog to be linked on your post, let me know.

Here's the great part: It's a round-robin sorta thing, so if your guest post goes on Participant #1's blog, Participant #1's guest post will not go on your blog, but on Participant #2's blog. That way, no one that normally reads your blog (like your mother or your nosy secretary) will be able to find your guest post!

Feel free to grab the button here, and post it on your blog. Go ahead and tweet about it, promote it on your blog; the more the merrier!

Contribution must be sent in by tomorrow, Wednesday, October 7th.

Guest posts to put on your blog will be sent by Monday, October 12th.

We will all publish the guest posts on the same day: Wednesday, October 14th.

If you have any questions, feel free to email me.

Now, get to ranting!

It Made Me Laugh, It Made Me Cry - It Was Better Than Cats!

2009-09-30T14:13:00.000-05:00

I'm alive. I've been in a bit of a funk lately - but I think I might be willing to share my experience with y'all thanks to two ladies who really cheered me up last night.

You see - things are hard in Internet-land - they are not always as they seem, and people aren't always who you think they are. But it's also a wonderful place that had provided me with four ears in this new hometown of mine - and I love it for that.

Today involved spreadsheets and numbers and lots of work. But tomorrow will be better and I promise I'll be better about writing and commenting soon.

Miss y'all a lot!

How to Talk Your Way Out of a Ticket

2009-09-14T09:40:00.000-05:00

Friday's mail included what I believe to be the pièce de résistance for our new home. Two updated Texas driver's licenses with our new address. I anxiously ripped open the envelope to look over the contents - first Manbug's license: (1) tanned picture taken two days after his last Mexico vacation, check; (2) full name, check; (Manbug goes by his middle name since he shares his first name with his dad - something I didn't even know about him until we were dating for almost a year); (3) updated address, check.

I then opened my envelope: (1) picture from just before the wedding with long hair that doesn't look anything like me anymore, check (also, wearing a black sweater so my hair blends in with sweater and makes me look decidedly-Rapunzelish); (2) married name, check; (3) updated address - well, crap! There was a typo in the name of our new street - an errant "A" that changed the address remarkably. I checked my receipt and sure enough, it was my error. This time....the last error that I had on a driver's license, however, was not. It was, similarly, the mere addition of a vowel, but oh - how it changed my address and helped me get out of a well-deserved ticket.

When I moved to Dallas after law school, I was very, very reluctant to give up my New York driver's license. It was the only remaining vestige of my life as a Manhattanite, and I clung to it with passion. The decision was made for me when I received a ticket and was forced to get a Texas version. As a result, I suspect I had a bit of an attitude when the DMV clerk told me that I had to actually hand over the NY license - I could not just apply for a new Texas version. In retrospect, I was likely more of a bitch to her than warranted, but don't worry - she got me back.

You see, I lived in this lovely little community on White Rock Lake in Dallas, on a quaint little street called Poppy Drive. Where did my license say I lived?

POOPY DRIVE. I can only imagine the laughter at my expense at the DMV the day that address was entered into the database.

Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled when I received the license in the mail and I made no immediate plans to return to the DMV to have it corrected.

One morning, a few weeks later, I was running late to work since I hadn't yet learned how to juggle my 80 hour work weeks. I ran out of the apartment with my hair soaking wet, no make-up on and wearing a less-than-ironed blouse. As I sped out of the garage, I veered too close to the wall and succeeded in knocking off the passenger side rearview mirror. I looked at it, hanging from an electrical cord, and decided I didn't have the time or the patience to deal with it. I pulled out onto the main road, and as my speed increased, the mirror swung back and forth, with alternating thumps on the door and window. I knew I had to pull over and deal with it, but I didn't have a minute to spare. I threw the car into 5th and saw something out of the corner of my eye - a cop. He quickly put his lights on and pulled me over. I can only imagine what he thought as he walked up to my car - the mirror was still swinging to and fro, and tears had started to well up in my eyes. Clearly, I wasn't handling this independent living very well.

"License, registration and insurance, please," he said as he cautiously peered into my window.

I handed over the paperwork and quickly added, "Officer, there's a small typo in my license so it won't match the other information exactly."

He glanced everything over and laughed out loud - "Poopy Drive? Where is that?"

"It's just east of Shit Boulevard," I replied as the tears started pouring down my face.

He burst out laughing, went back to his car and returned with a pair of clippers. He efficiently cut off the dingleberry mirror, walked around to my driver's side and handed it to me. "You're having a bad day, I can tell. But slow down - it's not worth getting hurt over. And whatever you do, do NOT get that typo fixed. You just made my day."

He patted my hand and was on his way, still chuckling as he pulled away.

Unfortunately, my current typo isn't funny in the least, so I guess I should just trek to the DMV, correct my address and get the horrific photo updated.

Sick As A You-Know-What

2009-09-11T11:25:00.000-05:00

Please excuse my unplanned absence, but you see - I have been the victim of a serious stomach bug since Monday. I started to feel better yesterday, I even returned to the land of the living, but today that bug socked it back to me and I'm feeling awful again.

But I had to take a moment to remember today - this horrible day in our history. As I wrote last year, the World Trade Center was a huge part of my childhood. I thank God for my relatives that made it out alive, and I remember and pray for the one relative that did not. I also thank God for this wonderful country we live in and I hope that all of the families that lost loved ones on this horrific day will found some peace, little by little.

When Pills Are Not Enough

2009-09-02T11:14:00.005-05:00

Please make sure to check out the rants-heard-round-the-Internet today. I am a horrible friend and could not participate today because my mom, who has been here for twelve days, has cut into my Internet time SUBSTANTIALLY. She is leaving today, and I will be furiously reading and commenting over the next few days in order to catch up - so please forgive my absence - I've missed you all!

Anyway, in addition to the rants, today, two years ago, my father passed away. I think we've come a long way in our healing process, but I wanted to take a special moment to mention that the world lost one of its best humans two years ago today. In honor of my dad, I'm going to post the eulogy that I gave at his funeral (I may have posted it before, but humor me here).

* * * * * * * * * * *

I have desperately struggled over the past few days trying to determine how I could possibly give proper honor to my father with a few meager minutes of speech. I lay in bed these past few nights, pushing aside the overwhelming feeling of emptiness, so that I could focus on the happier times and then stand before you and appropriately eulogize my father.

And then it occurred to me. I couldn’t do it because it was an impossible task. In fact, even if I had an unlimited amount of time to speak about my father, there simply are no words that could do him justice. I’m sure you know this as well - each one of you is here today to honor my father because he touched your life in some way – and therefore, you already know what a special person he was.

Since I cannot summarize the importance of his life with mere words, I’m going to focus on the impact of his life instead and I’d like to share with you the thoughts I have had in trying to deal with the loss of such a wonderful father.

When my family has lost loved ones in the past, we often tried to reason with the loss by imagining the “job” in heaven that was fulfilled. For example, when my best friend’s father passed away, a man who could have grown flowers and vegetables in a cement wall, we all agreed that God must have taken him because he needed a gardener in heaven. When my mom’s best friend passed away, a woman that had more style in her small finger than most people have in their whole body, we were sure that God needed a personal shopper in order to inject some flair into his wardrobe. When my brother passed away, it was agreed that God must have needed some sort of event coordinator in heaven, since he was a social maven on earth.

But what role was my father going to fulfill in heaven? What unique characteristic did he have, that would fulfill an opening in God’s kingdom? Did God need a devoted Giants fan? A bowler? Did God need his assets and liabilities balanced and therefore took my dad because he was a top-notch accountant and auditor? Did God need his coffee brought to him every morning like my father did for my mother during their 49 ½ years of marriage? Did God need someone to listen to his deepest thoughts, because my dad was the best listener and problem-solver that I have ever come across? Did God need someone to guide everyone up there through a daily rosary, because we know how important prayer and faith was to my father? What was the need?
I couldn’t think of one single task that my father could fulfill, probably because he was good at so many. And then it came to me – he wasn’t taken from us to satisfy a need in heaven – he was given to us over seventy-seven years ago to fulfill a need on earth.

I believe that God lent my father to this earth in order to show everyone around him how to live a proper life – a life filled with honor, grace, dignity, faith, respect, and love, in other words a life well-lived. Essentially, my father’s proper place has always been in God’s kingdom and he was merely on loan to us to be an example of God’s love and to teach us some lessons. So let me outline just a few of the lessons we were taught by seventy-seven years of wonderful examples:

Love your family unconditionally. And I mean UNCONDITIONALLY. That means no matter what anyone does, including perhaps….your daughter during her rebellious high school years – no matter the transgression, let them know that you love them. I was truly lucky in my life because I knew that had unrestricted love and support behind me from my parents-regardless of where I went in life or what I did. That has proved invaluable for me.
Pray every day. Heck, even bump it up a notch and attend mass every day like my father did. True faith in God was the cornerstone of my father’s life – everything else in his life was built from this foundation. And this leads me to lesson number three…
Keep every promise that you make. For example, when my brother became severely ill as a child, my father promised God that he would attend mass every day if Jimmie’s life was spared. And he did - and it was the most important part of his day. Either before he hopped on the train to the World Trade Center or later in life, when he was retired, before he brought home coffee and the papers to enjoy breakfast with my mom, he attended mass every morning.
Show kindness to every living being. Whether it be the puppy that your daughter asked you to “baby-sit” while she attended law school or the stranger on the street that you never met before that day – my father believed that a little kindness goes a long way. He used to say that you never know what the person that passes you on the street is experiencing – and as my Dad explained, a smile takes no extra effort and it may make someone’s day.
Make your marriage your number one priority. My parents, sadly, will not be able to celebrate their 50th anniversary this coming February 1st together. But the truth is, they celebrated their marriage every single day. Nothing came before the importance of each to the other. They nurtured their marriage, honored it and demonstrated their love and devotion to each other every single day they were together. Follow these rules and perhaps you will have a marriage as long and as successful as that of my parents.
Don’t speak unkindly about others. Ever. This one is a hard one, perhaps impossible, for most of us, but my father saw the good in every human being that he met in his life. And he always had a kind word about everyone.
Don’t drive over the speed limit – in fact, if you can, drive five miles under the speed limit with you blinker on (just in case). The importance of this lesson can be shown merely an accounting of the tickets that our family members have accrued over the years – Dad/zero; Mom – that number can’t be disclosed since it may actually become higher over the next few years.
Always route for the underdog. Whether the underdog is the Giants, or your wife, who crashed your car into a tree three hours after she got her license, you need to support those who need your help. And when they succeed, be the first one to give them a thumbs-up sign and say “Super!”

I’ve had the opportunity to stand on this altar, in this church that was the most important building in my father’s life, for many occasions. Some have been happy occasions, such as my communion, confirmation and the day I finally married a man worthy of my father’s approval. Others have been sad, such as the funeral for my brother almost nine years ago, where I was asked to perform the same task as I do today. I’m sure many of you were here on that day, and as you may recall I asked you to perform an unorthodox task at that time. And I’m going to ask you to do it again today. As I walk off this altar and begin to try to deal with the daily pain that my father’s death has left in my family’s life, I will ask you one more time – please stand and applaud my father for his life well-lived.

Welcome to the Nuthouse

2009-08-26T12:46:00.007-05:00

I have a "past" when it comes to squirrels.

First, there was the time that I awoke in the wee hours of the morning in my childhood home to a scratching noise in the attic. It was one of the last days that I was at home before heading back to college for my junior year, and I was miffed that my morning was getting disrupted. I went downstairs to find my dad, and he shrugged me off - he was getting ready for work and was positive that whatever was making that noise was on the outside of the house. Later that morning I returned from a doctor's appointment and was seated in the living room - ready for a few hours of soap operas, the new Glamour magazine and a diet Cherry 7-up. I had our front door open but the screened storm door was closed so that our older dog, Christie, could pretend she was looking out at the yard (she was pretty much blind by this point). As I sat on the couch, I saw something move VERY quickly out of the corner of my eye and catapult its small body over Christie and onto the screen - at that point, it started making some ungodly noises. I contributed to the chaos by screaming and spilling pink soda everywhere. I guess I scared the crap out of Squirrely McAcornpants, because he turned around and headed back into the kitchen. At that point, I grabbed Christie's collar and ran out the door onto the front lawn where I continued screaming. Neighbors opened their doors (including my best friend who lived two doors down), because clearly, someone was being murdered. My elderly next door neighbor came over, opened the front door and waited for the squirrel to exit our home on it's own. Crisis averted. (Also, my dad headed home early that day after a pissed off call from me to take me to a late lunch as an "I'm sorry I ignored your terror" gesture - we had a great time.)

My second experience was more harrowing. I had recently started dating my now-husband when he took me to the family farm in Louisiana for the opening of hunting season. I didn't care much about it - especially since they got up at the crack of dawn and all I needed to do was keep sleeping and ignore the noise as he donned his ridiculous camouflage outfit. I assumed they were going to hunt deer. I didn't necessarily agree with the activity, but given the overpopulation in the area and the family tradition involved, I kept my mouth shut - until he and his dad returned with their "prizes." The animals they hunted were small enough to hang from their belts. And they looked suspiciously like squirrels. A fact which was confirmed by me when I opened the refrigerator to grab a diet soda and I saw a pink fetus-like creature floating in a pot of water (it was a skinned squirrel). I grabbed the chardonnay instead. That night at dinner, my mother-in-law encouraged me to try some, because "it tastes like chicken." I declined and suggested that if it did indeed taste like chicken, perhaps our respective husbands would better spend their time HUNTING CHICKENS. (Which taste a lot like chicken as well).

Yesterday, was number three in the Great Timeline of Squirrel Events. I was talking to my mom and spied something weird hanging from a tree in our backyard. I went out to explore and saw this:

Crap - a squirrel had clearly wedged itself into the nook of the tree trunk and died. I felt bad for the poor guy. In fact, I went to check on his progress (and to make sure that we hadn't attracted any scavenger birds) about thirty minutes later and I saw this:

My "dead" squirrel had clearly moved. At this point, I called Manbug a/k/a the Squirrelanitor, and we stood in the yard (from a distance - we're not Grizzly Adams!) examining him. He seemed injured - or was just acting weird. We couldn't figure it out. Until a lovely neighbor walking her dog in the clearing next to our house enlightened us:

LNWHD: Is that my cat?

Manbug: What?

LNWHD: Is that my cat in your tree? I lost my cat.

Manbug: No - it's a squirrel who seems to be injured. He's just lying on the trunk of of tree.

LNWHD: Oh no - you wouldn't know it since you just moved here, but the squirrels in this neighborhood do that. When it's hot, they just lay on the tree to cool off.

Really? The squirrels in our neighborhood have a different method of dealing with triple digit temperatures than every other squirrel in Texas?

I'm not judging, but perhaps the residents in the area deal with the same heat by nipping at the cooking wine? But maybe she was right, because guess what I saw about an hour later?

Revised Date for "When Pills Are Not Enough"

2009-08-25T17:32:00.002-05:00

Because of the vast interest in the anonymous posts, Miss A Little Left of Lost has decided to extend the dealine detailed below.

Email your posts to dlwinkler (at)msn (dot)com by Sunday, August 30th. She will disperse them on the Monday the 31st for posting on your respective blog on Tuesday, September 1st.

Hope you plan to join us!

The “When pills are not enough” Sessions

2009-08-24T11:02:00.004-05:00

As taken from A Little Left of Lost:

On several occasions over the past few weeks, I have read or heard people complaining that they can't be absolutely and completely honest on their blogs, for a variety of reasons. Maybe your mom reads your blog. Or your grandmother. Or you have co-workers or clients who have found your blog. Maybe your spouse doesn't like you telling "strangers" about the concerns you may have in your marriage. Whatever it may be, I'm pretty sure at some point you have been afraid to post something. And who can blame you? Who wants your grandmother to know you are testing & reviewing a dildo? Who wants your co-worker or boss to read about how stabby you get in the office? Whatever it is, it would be nice to rant, bitch, complain, vent, get it out already, without the negative consequences. It would be great to get some feedback from other smart people out there, without worrying about losing readers (or your job). Thus, The "When pills aren't enough" Sessions! (As in, "I took a pill to calm my ass down, but I'm still stressing/pissed/panicking." And I can't take credit for the name; Holly is fabulous with stuff like that.)

Basically, this is how it works:

You send me an email (at dlwinkler (at)msn (dot)com) telling me you want to participate. Go ahead and give me the link to your blog as well. Let me know if there is anything you do not want posted on your blog.
Then you send me your post. It can be about ANYTHING. Nothing is off-limits here.
I will send your post to another participating blogger to be posted on their blog next Friday, August 28th. We will all post the guest posts that day.
If you wish to have an under-the-radar, sneaky pen name for your post, go right ahead. Just put it in the email. If you want your blog to be linked on your post, let me know.
Here's the great part: It's a round-robin sorta thing, so if your guest post goes on Participant #1's blog, Participant #1's guest post will not go on your blog, but on Participant #2's blog. That way, no one that normally reads your blog (like your mother or your nosy secretary) will be able to find your guest post!
Am I fabulously smart or what? (Don't everyone answer that all at once).
So! Pretty please email me if you are interested in participating! I will need your guest post by Wednesday night, August 26th.

Now I just need to decide what I'm going to write about first!

**You may see this post on several people's blogs today. Just trying to spread the word.Feel free to do the same!!**

Cowboy Take Me Away

2009-08-10T14:22:00.006-05:00

My mind associates very specific moments with the lyrics to one of my favorite Dixie Chicks song. It was my final semester of law school. I had a class schedule that offered me more free time than I had ever had as a working girl or student in the past few years. I had a new car with a great stereo system and a sun roof. I had accepted a job at a firm that I loved and I would be moving to Texas that following fall. I drove around listening to this song, feeling free and falling in love with the idea of my future.

Sure, as a somewhat naive New Yorker, I glamorized Texas in those dreams. At least I glamorized the Texas that I would come to know in the not-so-distant future. The one that I had allowed myself to dream of consisted of fields of blue bonnets, cowboy hats, creased Wranglers, pick-up trucks, hay, horses and sun. My "real" Texas, however, would consist of late nights at work, dinner out of Styrofoam boxes, amortizing law school debt, living by myself and responsibility. I knew there would be a huge disconnect between what I hoped and what came to be, but it was those dreams that would allow me to pick up and move across the country, to a state where I knew NO ONE - away from family and life-long friends.

And no, I didn't get a cowboy - I got a somewhat cocky IT consultant that worked for my firm but was about to start his own business. And he didn't wear Wranglers with a cowboy press or boots - he wore khakis and dress shirts and had designer shoes that cost more than the heels I wore on a daily basis. He didn't drive an F150, he drove a Lexus - a car that he freely admitted to me was chosen to attract females (and no, he doesn't own it anymore). But I fell in love and I abandoned my dreams of cowboys (although, through a promise of life-long love I did get a family farm and a father-in-law who wore cowboy-pressed Wranglers. No bad for a girl from New York City).

But Saturday night all of those old visions came rushing back to me. We were attending a birthday party for a business acquaintance and the party moved from the original location to an old Texas dance hall that dated back to 1876. As we stepped through the front doors, we walked through a sea of mean wearing cowboy hats and Wranglers and women donning sundresses and cowboy boots (Yes, I know these pictures are HORRIBLE, but please imagine me trying sneak photos with my Blackberry at such a locale!).

Many of them sashayed in a circle as they two-stepped to the live band singing about lost love and pick-up trucks.

The whole scene was overwhelming - in a good way. In a way that makes me appreciate the many facets of Texas and all it has to offer. That in fact, the Texas that I had dreamed of did exist - even if it was one that I didn't experience every day.

And that night I made a few promises to the person I was in my third year of law school - first, I was going to buy a pair of cowboy boots (and honestly that's a promise to the person I am today as well because hey, new shoes!) and second, I would learn to dance in them.

It's the least I could do to honor those crazy dreams.

Conversations with Manbug a/k/a Signs That I'm Getting More Dumber

2009-07-29T14:44:00.008-05:00

Scene: Sitting at dinner in a Mexican restaurant. Manbug is clearly thinking about something that doesn't involve me and/or our dinner. So I try to make conversation by bringing up current and relevant topics.

Me: I heard today that the the dog who did the Taco Bell commercials died.

(See all of the levels of relevance? It's a story about a pet that died (like ours did) and about Mexican food (which we were eating).

Manbug: Do you think sometimes there is TOO much access to what's going on in the world?

Me: Probably, but then what could I used as fodder for this scintillating dinner conversation? He was pretty talented.

Manbug: You know he didn't actually say "Yo Quiero Taco Bell," right?

Me: Of course, but he did the commercials in a professional manner even though he was surrounded by food.

Manbug: Or, they filmed the commercial on a set instead of an actual restaurant that had food on the counters.

*****************************************

Scene: At Sears when we realize that foolishly, we drove Manbug's car (a sedan) rather than my car (an SUV) to buy a lawnmower.

Me: While you are looking around, I could run home and pick-up the truck....wait, never mind.

Manbug: What?

Me: Well, I was going to offer to run home and pick up the truck, but you'd have to drive me there so it doesn't make sense.

(Manbug and Sears Lawnmower Salesman exchange puzzled glances).

Manbug: Or you could just drive the 4 Runner back.

Me: Yea, but what about your car?

Manbug: You could leave my car at home. And bring your car INSTEAD?

Me: ?????

Manbug: Think it through one last time. (Pauses. Sees light bulb go off over my head). Got it?

Me: (sheepishly) Yes.

*****************************************
Insert a similar conversation here why I argue, unsuccessfully as it should be, that if we bought 3 of the items that cost $9.00, out total would be $16.00 + tax.

Everybody Poops. Just Not Usually in Their Own Backyard.

2009-07-28T15:23:00.004-05:00

Life has been a bit of an adjustment the past few weeks. In essence, we lost two pets, but gained a house and a yard. We're still not unpacked, and we have more items arriving - new furniture was delivered today and next week our POD will be delivered. (I don't even remember what the hell is packed in that thing other than my dining room set, china and crystal. Oh - and my Kitchen Aid mixer - never used).

One big adjustment that we've had to make involves the large tank residing in our backyard. You see, we are now the proud owners of a septic system. This means, for those of you that are uneducated in this realm, that our waste resides in our backyard, and is not flushed away into a giant don't-have-to-see-it-city-sponsored-system.

At closing, I was told by the previous owner of the house that I had to be very, very, very careful about what went down my drain. Since that day, I've been trying to educate myself, because it seems that any mistake involving a septic system costs around $15,000.

I've started with small steps - incorporating natural products into the household cleaning process. I've come to know and LOVE so many products that my favorite bloggers have shared with me, so I thought I would return the favor. So far, I've come across two favorites that I must share (since anyone can benefit from using products that don't burn off your nose hairs):

Clorox Green Works Natural Dish Washing Liquid in Water Lily: This stuff ROCKS. Seriously - every time I smell it, I smile. It has such a great scent, and it washes just as well, if not better, than my previous dish washing liquid, but with all natural ingredients. Because of the wonderful results, I suspect that I'll try and love additional products from this line, but honestly, I would keep buying this stuff for the smell alone.

Seventh Generation Natural Laundry Detergent - Blue Eucalyptus and Lavender:

Again, I was wooed by the amazing smell of this detergent, but our laundry looks great too. The eucalyptus smell is a tad masculine, and the lavender, a tad feminine - so both my husband and I are happy about the way we smell. All of our usual stains have come out and I love that it is safe for the environment.

(And yes, my life is so f-ing exciting right now that I'm blogging about clean dishes and underwear. My life is tres glamorous, no?).

Speaking of which, both of these products include the claim that they were not tested on animals. I hate that some products have to be tested on animals to ensure that they are safe for humans, but why on Earth would we have to test things that we know are NOT safe for humans? Oh, really? Bleach burns? No shit Sherlock! If you know something is harmful to ingest, such as laundry detergent, I say, stop testing it!

And yes, I will post some "before" and "after" pictures of the house, as soon as there is an "after" to speak of. Now, we are honestly one milk crate away from being a frat house.

Finally, I just want to thank all of you for the amazing outpouring of love that I received with the loss of my fur-babies. I'm so touched by your support, and feel so lucky to have made such wonderful friends through blogging.

I Promise Not to Write About Dead Pets Anymore

2009-07-20T22:17:00.000-05:00

I didn't even bother to put on eye make-up today. I knew that it would become irrelevant in the afternoon. And why waste the effort when it would only end up streaming down my face.

Yes, I'm writing about a dead dog again. Want to find other topics to read about? You should probably read other blogs. Actually, don't bother. This is my last dog, so I likely won't write about it again. So if you want, you can stay here.

The time that I was dreading came. At least I think it did- but I'll never be sure.

I was sure a day ago. And I was sure about an hour before it happened. But I found myself driving 35 miles in a 65 mile zone just to delay the inevitable. Yesterday, I saw her wag her tail and act somewhat puppy-like, and I thought, well ,maybe she's not that bad. But the wag in her tail doesn't hide the pain in her eyes. She was more than sixteen years old, which is like 116 years old to you and me (does anybody remember that cheesy dog food commercial from the 80s that said that line? No? Just me? I digress...).

So I stayed in the room, and I held her head and her heart in my hands while she passed. This beautiful soul that had given EVERYTHING to me. I owed her at least that much. When I got up to leave, I was shocked at how wet her fur had become from my tears.

She had been with me since I was a single girl living in Manhattan working at a large law firm as a paralegal. I was 24 at the time. She moved to the suburbs of New Jersey to live with my parents when I was assigned to a long trial out-of-town. She remained in my parents' care (mostly my dad's care) while I attended law school in upstate New York for three years, but after taking the bar exam, I swooped into New Jersey and moved her to Dallas. She tolerated the "new dog" when I gave a poor abused orphan a home (Mr. Murph). She was there when I met my husband (and she was pretty clear that she didn't like him). She was there when I got married, had a miscarriage, left my job and moved to Austin. At the age of 40. She's been with me through everything...and because of our time together, I feel that I owed her a dignified death.

When I wrote my tribute to Murphy, I wrote about his unique characteristics. I didn't associate them with specific moments because Murphy was Murphy all the time. When I think of Riley, I think of specific moments. Things she did that made me laugh, smile or scream.

I think of the time that she saved my life when we lived in an apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Someone decided to break into my apartment one night and she barked and barked and climbed on the window - and when I finally got the guts to check on the disturbance, I just saw a shadow running off the roof away from the barking. I think of every time I took a business trip and left her in the care of my parents - how I would ache for her attention as the Town Car pulled up to the curb - just a token of affection to let me know it was okay that I was leaving. But she would throw her nose in the air and walk away, leaving me standing in the hallway with my suitcase upset. I think of the morning that I laid in bed and thought the house was on fire from the smell that was assailing my nostrils - but instead, Riley had been sprayed by a skunk and had sought solace in the only place she knew - my bed. I also think about how later that day I was asked to leave my job as a paralegal because apparently I still smelled like a skunk and had NO idea! I think of the time I brought home a date - a guy that I thought might be "the one" - and while I was trying to convince myself that he was great, Riley was rifling through the pocket of his Armani suit and devouring his wallet and credit cards (and yes, he wasn't "the one" when he freaked out about it). I think of the time my brother drove her to Pittsburgh from New York, so that I could take care of her on a business trip while my parents went away for their anniversary - she charmed the pants off the cranky head of litigation that I was working for, softened the outlook of the in-house counsel of our client, and made everyone laugh when she stole lunch meat off a catered tray in the middle of a trial. I think of the way I clutched her neck as the Towers were falling and I was wondering whether my relatives made it out alive. I think of the way she came to me when I learned of my father's death over the phone - she stood at my side and wouldn't leave until I hugged her and kissed her nose. I think of her mischievous ways as a pup - but they seem SO long ago...and I hate that I can almost only remember her as an old lady. And old lady that couldn't get around anymore. An old lady that paced incessantly only exacerbating the pain in her hips and front paw. An old lady that was too stubborn to eat. She was so skinny you could see her ribs. She was disorientated. And she'd fallen to the floor over ten times since we moved into the new house only six days ago.

I do find it ironic that only a month or so ago, we were a family of four, with no yard, no space and lots of love to go around. Now, we have a huge yard, more space than we need and no one to fill it. We're lost - but we know that we will be okay. Honestly, I think the loss of these two blessed souls are God's message to us to start thinking about a family and stop living in the present. Sometimes the message is harsh - but it has to be heard. So we'll see what happens.

If God allows it, there may be a baby named Riley Murphy, or even Murphy Riley in our future. :)

Tired. And Painty.

2009-07-13T07:14:00.004-05:00

Well, this move is sucking the very life out of me. The most positive thought that I could muster up in the past five days was this morning around 1:00 a.m. - I said to myself, "Well, hopefully at this time next week I'll be in bed."

We are in the process of painting the entire house. The ceilings were scraped by professionals and they look wonderful. The paint? Eh - it varies from room to room. The two rooms that were done by professionals look wonderful. The other rooms that are being painted by a combination of my mother-in-law, husband and myself? Not horrible - but let's just say that the colors we chose are highlighting all of the not-seen-before flaws in the thirty-five year old walls. I mean, really - if you were thirty-five years old would you want someone smearing Sherwin Williams' Herbal Wash on your ass and thighs thus drawing a map to your divots and pits? I think not.

We move tomorrow and not a single box is packed.

But I'm not panicking, because we've brought a few loads of random crap over to the house already. For example, the master closet should be completely empty and that's a lot of stuff. Also, we live in a 950 sq. foot apartment so there's not a lot to pack. Most of our belongings will be moved down from a POD in the Dallas-area when one of the participants in this marriage remembers to make that phone call. (If I were you, I wouldn't bet on me). Which, upon arrival, I will proceed to throw most of it in the garbage since we've lived without it for a year already. Who needs that shit?

Oh - and to top it all off, Riley, the sole survivor of the dog-related family members is freaking out. She has succeeded in locking herself in various rooms of our apartment during our long paint-induced absences. and in the past three days has likely negated all of the money we put down as a pet deposit. Up until this point the apartment was relatively scar-free. But really, we didn't want that $700 anyway.

We've had a lot of bumps and bruises - such as ordering an amazing refrigerator that does everything short of waxing your bikini line, only to find upon delivery that it DOESN'T FIT. And so we ended up with the unemployed-alcoholic-cousin version of the aforementioned model. In other words, it will likely do nothing except sit on our couch watching The Food Network while sponging off electricity and snacking from its own interior.

I can't wait until this is over and life returns to a semi-state of normal. I need some alone time right about now, and unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be in my future.

So I'm holding out until next Sunday.

5 Star Friday

2009-07-03T15:02:00.003-05:00

I'm touched beyond belief that one of my readers suggested that my post on Murphy be featured on Five Star Friday. Thank you!

Head over there to read some great writing - it's the perfect way to spend the day before a holiday, don't you think!

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday! Better than mine at least - which will feature paint shopping and packing. Woo-freaking-hoo.

Home Sweet Home

2009-07-02T12:43:00.003-05:00

It is ours. Officially. We signed today. We are out of our apartment by the 15th.

First project? Scraping popcorn ceilings and painting. Next project? Oh, a million other things.

Turning A Corner

2009-06-29T09:28:00.006-05:00

I'm not going to lie - it was a rough weekend. Rough. I think my husband and I experienced every emotion on the spectrum since the vet called us on Friday afternoon and suggested that Murphy be put to sleep. Even though the tumor only became noticeable a week ago, it was massive and had invaded his muscles and abdominal wall. They would never be able to remove it all - so all they could guarantee was a long painful recovery with an inevitable death - perhaps in as soon as 8 weeks.

My husband, to put it lightly, was devastated. I can't recall ever seeing him quite this upset about anything. But I was so proud of him - he was so open with his emotions and his loss. And we cried a lot together. Needless to say, neither of us really cares anymore about the house and the fact that it has a kick-ass yard.

But despite all of this ickiness - I need to recognize a VERY important day. Today, is my Mom's birthday. How old is she you ask? I have NO idea. You see, she has lied to me about very few things in my lifetime, but one consistent lie is her age. So I forget and get confused over her true age. AND - she would likely disown me if I ever disclosed it...even if I did so on a blog that she doesn't know about. (Well, not just that she doesn't know about...I'm not sure she knows what a blog is either).

So - let's put the pity party on pause for a day and wish an amazing mother, friend, and semi-professional waxer a Happy Birthday!

Thank you for always being there, day and night, for all of the moments in my life, happy and sad. Thank you for loving my husband so much and making him laugh. Thank you for crying on Friday along with me. Thank you for giving me the best dad and brother in the whole world. Thank you for giving me something to strive for in life - to be like you. Thank you for being the perfect hostess and teaching me the importance of making people feel at home. Thank you for forcing me to take Irish Step Dancing for so long (even though it was totally uncool at the time). Thank you for being my friend.

I love you Mom!

Rainbow Bridge

2009-06-26T14:30:00.004-05:00

A very kind and dear friend just sent this to me and I just wanted to post it as a tribute to my beloved furry family member Murphy who passed on to Rainbow Bridge a few hours ago.

RAINBOW BRIDGE

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.

The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

It's All About Me (sarcasm intended)

2009-06-24T13:23:00.005-05:00

Thank you all so much for your love and support after my last post. As I stated, I understand that there are others out there with bigger problems, including my previously mentioned friend that had lost her father and had surgery in the same week - my frustration with the whole situation was complicated. First of all, I was sad about her father dying. I have been friends with her and her family for over 36 years. She and her brothers are my honorary siblings, and I loved her parents as if they were my own. I was heartbroken that I couldn't make it back to New Jersey to attend the funeral, especially since she was there when my dad passed away. She implored me not to come, and I heeded her advice - but it all seemed like a bad idea when she got sick. I was terribly worried about her and I wanted to be there. But I couldn't, and I wasn't. It just felt like a huge friendship failure on my part. Thankfully, she's doing much better and we are so hopeful that she'll have a new lease on life as a result of this scare - there's always a silver lining!

Murphy is another story. This little fuzzy-beast has the doctors quite perplexed.

In spite of the over $400 we have already laid down, they have no idea what the tumor is made of, nor what caused it. But, they are willing to cut it out of him for another $1,000. My pet is uncomfortable and in pain, and I'm sick over it. We are getting a second-opinion from a family friend today - so hopefully if it's necessary, he'll be in surgery by Friday and on his way to a long and healthy life.

On a happier note, one of the partners that I worked for in Dallas called me over the weekend in a panic. She was visiting Austin and we had planned to meet up, but she needed a favor - could I watch her adorable two sons for a few hours while she attended a parent orientation at UT for a few hours. She was in a bind and I could hear the desperation in her voice - even though I am quite uncomfortable with my abilities to care for younguns, I said "yes." I went to her brother's house yesterday for about 4 hours and had the time of my life! Cute kids everywhere (her niece and nephew were there too), and I had a chance to spend some time with her miracle baby. Born at 22 weeks, no one thought he would survive, but there he was in my arms giggling and pulling my hair - it was an amazing dose of perspective. And hey, if she didn't think four hours under my care would irreparably scar her children, who am I to disagree?

In other news, I've lot about ten pounds since last week. Yea, apparently not-eating does that to you! I'm hoping to use this lack-o-appetite as a spring-board for paying-attention-to-my-health once-again. One lesson that I've learned over this past week is the importance of health.

There are other exciting times in store as well - this weekend some very fun Dallas-area bloggers are coming down for meet-up with some very fun Austin-area bloggers. I can't wait to have so many wonderful ladies in one place.

This brings me to my last tidbit - I'm really excited about the book that is featured in the Daily Grommet ad to the left. I think we all know the power of female friends - it looks like a great read. I myself have been very lucky in the friend department. Specifically, I have a group of friends from my hometown in NJ that are my lifeline. This little coven was established over 29-years-ago and has gotten me through a lot in my life. I'll be talking about them more in the future - while we are all different and each of them is so unique in her own way, we have similarities that have forged life-long bonds and I am so grateful for that.

Pbbbbtttt to Last Week

2009-06-22T08:25:00.000-05:00

This past week has been very difficult. And I don't mean that I was busy, or sick - I mean that the planets lined up in some celestial firing range to annihilate my optimism.

[What follows is a somewhat whiny and self-pitying post. So proceed if you like. But know that the actual writing of this post has actually improved my outlook - so don't feel bad...things are looking up and that's the way the cookie crumbles. :) ] (Name that movie and get 5 extra points).

First, there was Monday. As I have mentioned, we decided to buy a house. Now I know that this process isn't easy, but I never expected it to be THIS hard:

6:45 a.m.: You got the house - we're closing in a few hours.
6: 52 a.m.: We're raising your interest rate that was supposedly locked in. But we're still closing today.
7:10 a.m.: Are you ready to close? (Thus, I go off to shower and put on appropriate house-closing outfit and make-up).
10:12 a.m.: Who told you the house was closing today? It's still in underwriting.
12:15 p.m.: Who told you it was in underwriting? There are still a number of conditions that need to be met.
12:45 p.m.: Who told you that you could extend your lease, we rented your apartment out.
1:17 p.m.: Who told you that you deserve a house? Have you been to a therapist lately? You aren't worthy of ANYTHING.

Then there was Tuesday. This lovely second day of the week coupled a lost invoice for my services (and thus, a lost payment for those services and thus, no money) and a declaration by our lender that we needed to compile additional tax information to even qualify for a mortgage at the rate we were previously given.

Wednesday - oh, beautiful Wednesday. You paired the unexpected death of my friend's father (well unexpected to me), with a lost camera and melting-down husband. Oh, and you sprinkled in a decision to pull our file from our current lender, hours of tax paperwork compiled with my Mother-in-law's assistance, and my brother-in-law as a house guest for a few days.

Thursday, you lured me in with your seemingly happy start. But you pulled out your old ace-in-the-hole and gave me a crisis at work. Which sucked up 14 hours of my day.

Friday...you gave me gloriously freshened-by-Aveda-chocolaty locks, but you confusion at the salon required that I use a new colorist, which made me nervous. Also, she charges $20 more than my current colorist. When I got home from the salon, feeling cautiously optimistic about the upcoming weekend? You gave me the most horrifying news yet...my friend? Who had just lost her father? She didn't make it to the funeral because she was in intensive care. The doctors thought she had suffered a heart-attack and they had to do TRIPLE BYPASS SURGERY to save her life. Yep - that friend that was a bridesmaid in my wedding just 2 1/2 years ago. That friend that is only five years older than me.

Friday also lovingly threw in some MORE financial paperwork with my mother-in-law, and a rapidly growing grapefruit-sized tumor appeared in the abdomen of our younger dog, Murphy. A tumor, that even though I called the vet and they said to bring him in first thing on Monday morning, scared the crap out of me at the rate with which it grew. Of course, Murphy is still acting like he's fine - eating and drinking and pooping and peeing...so I'm perplexed. But if I get bad news at the vet today, I will have a full-on meltdown.

Saturday wasn't so bad. I did have a chance to see the house that we-may-or-may-not live in. Also, I noticed that it was missing a lot of stuff, such as a refrigerator, that was supposedly to be included in the purchase. Also, had to kill a VERY LARGE bug when I was there. That being said, we've tested the sellers' patience so much, we likely don't even care about such things - we just want a home.

And of course, Sunday...Fathers' Day...yep, cherry on my freaking sundae.

As of now, my friend is doing okay. She came through the five hour surgery with flying colors and they were able to take her off the ventilator Saturday night and she was moved out of intensive care yesterday.

Murphy is currently at the vet's office (without me). I brought him in early this morning because I was so freaked out. They aspirated the tumor and it was bloody, rather than clear, which is not good. He also had a 105 degree fever, so they are keeping him for observation, giving him an IV and running some blood-work. Please say a little doggie prayer for him. He is truly the peanut butter to my jelly and I need him to be okay.

And the house? Well, we'll either know for sure or not this week whether it's ours. And if it's not, we'll stay where we are and look again in a few months. Screw interest rates.

I know everything will eventually be fine, and I know we are better off than some. Still, sometimes I want to look at the Universe and tell it to pick on someone it's own size.

The Second One

2009-06-21T13:30:00.006-05:00

Today marks the second year that I've had to tolerate Fathers' Day. It sounds harsh and selfish, but I have to admit that I am jealous of daughters around the world that still have a dad to hug and appreciated. Advice that's only a phone call away. A reassuring hug that's always available. I can't even smile today when I see a small hand reaching up to grasp a larger one, because it still hurts. A lot. But then I realize that it hurts so much is because he truly was an amazing father. And I would rather have had time with him, even knowing the inevitable despair that his absence would cause, than none at all.

I realize what an important role so many men around the world play in their children's lives and I have to thank God that I drew the long straw when he was giving out fathers.

I have a lot more that I need to share with y'all. This past week has been unprecedented in the craziness that has ensued - there has been much drama, fear, sadness and anticipation. I think I'll revisit those issues tomorrow since I feel rather raw today.

From the bottom of my heart, I wish a Happy Fathers' Day to all. And to my fellow daddy's little girls out there? Give your dad an extra hug for me.

P.S. Edited to include: I am very, very, very lucky to have a wonderful father-in-law! He's one of the most kind-hearted men that I have ever met and I feel honored to be his daughter-in-law!

Your Inner Grill

2009-06-16T20:20:00.003-05:00

Our two dogs were following Manbug around the house - for no apparent reason since he clearly wasn't carrying food in his hands.

Manbug: Dogs, why are you all up in my grill?

Me: Your grill?

Manbug: Yes, my grill.

Me: Coming from someone who I think knows you quite well, I'm 99% certain you don't have a grill.

Manbug: Everyone has a grill.

Me: I don't have a grill.

Manbug: You do. You just haven't gotten in touch with it. It's your inner grill.

Me: Is it charcoal or propane?

Manbug: Clearly, you have a lot of grill learning to do.

So, I'm off to learn about my grill. I can smell the steaks now.

Disturbing Things That I Have Seen

2009-06-12T15:25:00.013-05:00

I'm a woman of few words lately. Solution? Pictures. I wanted to share with you a few things that I have seen over the past few days that have disturbed me in some way.

First up - The Oak Farms Cow.

Yesterday I was picking up a sign order from a rather industrial area. I hadn't realized the Oak Farms plant was across the street until I came upon this huge cow on a trailer in their lot.

What you cannot see in this picture (my poor Blackberry camera was at its zooming limitations and although I love y'all, I wasn't going to scale a barbed wire fence) was the physical specificity with which they constructed the udder.

The veins. The teats. I threw up in my mouth. I drew you a picture so that you can understand the true horror of this milking monstrosity:

Seriously, if you ever have a need for an anatomically correct cow, let me know and I'll give you the address.

Next up - Transgendered Midol:

I was having severe female issues yesterday. Perhaps it's the stress that I've been under, or the fact that haven't eaten a vegetable in five weeks. Either way, I headed to Target to inundate my blood stream with pain killers. I looked at the labels, pondered my options, and then just grabbed anything.

As a responsible drug-taker, I did look at the back label to determine whether I needed to be careful about anything (given the massive dose I was planning on taking). And yes, there was a warning that needed to be noted. But let me say this...if you have this issue, AND you are taking Midol, I think the side effects are the least of your concerns:

See that? Under "Ask your doctor before use if you have...". Yes, a prostate problem. And your period. At the same time.

Last up - Texas Storms:

Austin and the surrounding areas got slammed last night with a storm (much like our friends in DFW the night before). The sky scared the heck out of me. So I decided to race out, into the wind, rain and lightning, to see if my new camera would capture the clouds rolling in:

Turns out that as I was outside playing Ansel Adams, a tornado was touching down not so far away. Fun! Our poor doggies were freaking out, but the storm ended and we were safe. I ventured back outside (because clearly, I had learned my lesson) to see if my sunroof had been destroyed by the golf ball size hail,*** and what touched my toe?

He's hard to spot because basically, I suck at using my new camera. Interesting aspect of frogs? He sat there while I took at least 43 photos of him. He hit the road when Murphy ventured outside to sniff his butt in cross-species greeting.
***I just need to give a shout-out (as I did on Twitter last night) to those devoted Texans that NOT only ran out to their yard to grab the hail, AND took pictures, AND sent them immediately into their local weather station...but ALSO had a golf-ball or baseball handy in include in the picture for a complete scale. Thank you Honorary Meteorologists From Hell - you should definitely be the next Real Men of Genius.

It's Not That I Stink At Blogging...

2009-06-10T15:46:00.003-05:00

it's that I'm longer skilled at multi-tasking. Things have been oh-so-hectic here. And I don't mean to say "my life is so much busier than your life." I mean to say "I'm not handling it as well as you are." I will be back to blogging full-time soon, but in the mean time I thought I'd update you on my life in list form:

We got our stuff back from the book keeper/fugitive. It was a long hard process and it just about drove us nuts. I don't think any long term harm was done. I'd like to think that she was a person trying to turn over a new leaf, but a brisk wind came along and turned the leaf back to its original position. We are now looking for a legitimate company to take over the financial aspect of the business. Keep your fingers crossed. Also, you like my analogy? Too stretched? Yea, probably.
Thing are plugging along. I won't believe it's going to happen until it happens, so I'm trying to remain mum on the subject so that I won't be too depressed if it gets yanked away from us. As soon as things are more positive, I will let y'all know. Promise.
That being said, we did give our notice of intent to move to our apartment complex. They are at 96% occupancy right now. So there's a good chance if we lose the house, we'll also lose the apartment. Fun, right?
Our older dog Riley decided to add a touch of her own decorating to our current home the other morning around 3:15 a.m. Her idea of decorating apparently consists of spray painting from a rear orifice if you get my drift. It was NOT pretty. Especially since I cleaned up the whole place, crawled back into bed, and then realized I could still smell it everywhere. Guess what? I hadn't checked her fur. Rookie mistake really. I got about three hours of sleep that night.
My mom just called me from her bridge game to ask me what the name of the animal was that freaked Manbug out when he visited NJ. I knew exactly what she was talking about, but received protests from my male counterpart when I recalled the story of how he screamed like a girl when two fighting chipmunks crossed over his path. (Really, he had a valid point - those suckers are ALL OVER my mom's condo complex).
Also, I think my mom and her friends have started drinking at their bi-weekly bridge games (does that mean twice a week? Because that's what I meant. I can never get those words straight).
I'm a little amazed that there is a chance that we could be moving in less than 25 days.
Of course, there's always the possibility that we could be homeless in 25 days.
Anyone in Austin have some free guest space?
I promise I won't bring Riley. :)
Someone called my husband "low class" today for two of the dumbest reasons and I'm still laughing about it. He's still mumbling "d-bag" under his breath every five minutes, but really - it's funny. Because the commentor turned out to be more low-class than anyone I've ever met.
I got to meet some AMAZING women last week at a little happy hour. We had a lovely time and chatted for hours. I can honestly say they are all as funny in person as they are on their blogs!

Hell is Other People***

2009-06-03T18:40:00.005-05:00

We had the best of intentions - find an experience bookkeeper to hire that could help set up our business on Quick books, teach us how to book keep, and smack us on the snout with a rolled-up newspaper when we didn't get it right.

We ended up with unreturned phone calls, unreturned files, missing money and possibly a stolen car (not ours).

Where did the story start, you ask? Craigslist. And after hearing that horrible stories do happen from this source, well - all I can say is that the Internet isn't all good - and you have to be careful.

This past week has been hellacious. It's been filled with regret, hindsight, finger-pointing, blame, anger and fighting. My husband and I learned a lot about trust, and more importantly, suspicion.

Honestly, I should have KNOWN from the beginning that something wasn't right. But here I was, a new citizen of one of the best cities in the world and I was doing my part to Keep Austin Weird.

We made an appointment to meet with the person we contacted. We rescheduled and then didn't hear from her for a few days. We contacted her again and she explained that she had a dental emergency. We set up a new appointment. She came, but was late. We spoke with her at length regarding what we needed, what we expected, and the time line.

We gave her the only copies of some files (Mistake No. 1). Files that contained confidential information (Mistake No. 2). We didn't ask for her phone number (Mistake No. 3) because we thought we had it (she had called us and we kept the number) (Mistake No. 4). We didn't blink when she asked for a copy of the Quick books version that we were using (Mistake No. 5). And then, we didn't hear from her for a week. She didn't return our emails. I called the number that she had contacted us from and it was her old job. From which she had recently been fired. Because she had stolen checks and money and a car. And then the shit hit the fan.

Let's just say, neither my husband nor I was fighting fair. And in all honesty, we shouldn't have been fighting at all. We should have faced this crisis as a team. But again, we are seeing things a lot clearer in retrospect.

We still don't have the files back. We have a nice man named Claude helping us out as a private investigator. We've had to set alerts on our accounts and will do the same on our credit reports. Oh, and we can't shut down anything right now BECAUSE WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF GETTING A FUCKING MORTGAGE. Sigh.

Truthfully, nothing has really happened yet. As long as we get our stuff back, and get our house, we can take all of the precautionary measures needed and get new accounts etc. And really? She only has copies of checks - but I'm sure an industrious person can use that limited information for evil purposes. But wow, so many lessons have been learned.
This that have helped this week? I'm making this for dinner tonight and I suspect that we'll both be too apathetic to fight. I meeting this wonderful person and this wonderful person for drinks tomorrow night, and if their blogs are any indication of the kind of people they are, I'll be happy and laughing most of the night. And next week, I'll meet more wonderful bloggers that will be in town for a trip. So really, the Internet is mostly a good place - and the outpouring I have received from my Tweeps and bloggers in general? My faith is mostly restored. You just have to be careful.

*** Jean-Paul Sartre

Manbug's Observation on John Grisham

2009-06-02T12:55:00.001-05:00

Scene: Manbug just played the trailer from the new Transformer movie.

Me: Did you know that John Grisham admired Shia Lebouf's acting so much that he cast him in his new legal thriller movie?

Manbug: Really, what's it about?

Me: I don't know. It's called "The Associate."

Manbug (with knowledge of his wife's life when she worked at a big law firm): "The Associate"? That sounds horrible! Why not "The Partner"? Subtitle: I make lots of money and belittle people all day!

Me: That doesn't sound interesting at all.

Manbug: Oh, and "The Associate" does? What's the subtitle for that? Film about a guy that works 95 hours a week and has no life? I sit in a cube and look at documents. Let me film you! Here's me getting lunch and eating it at my desk. Until 10:00 p.m. That's a great movie! I suspect the Box Office Totals will be $24.50 for opening weekend.

Me: That's harsh.

Manbug: You forget. I know. "The Associate" is boring.

True. So true. So kids, don't go to law school

Memorial Day

2009-05-25T08:50:00.005-05:00

I received such sad news last night. It seemed appropriate, given the tenor of the holiday, to ask y'all to keep a particular family in mind today.

As I wrote before, a couple we met on our honey moon has faced the battle of their lives over the past two and half years of their short marriage. I learned last night, sadly, that fight was over.
It's never right when a loved one is taken from us, but it seems particularly harsh to me that a couple married only weeks after us is no longer together.

As we remember all of those who have fallen in honor of our Country today, I ask that you just say a small prayer for this family as well.

Happy Memorial Day.

A Bed, A Sandwich and Manbug

2009-05-22T11:05:00.004-05:00

I don't often delve into the various aspects of my husband's personality, but he did something yesterday that made me felt so proud and so lucky to have him as mine.

You see, he has a very forward, sometimes abrasive way about him. He sees things in black and white and doesn't hold back the truth. Sometimes, this offends people and I often have to remind him to temper his truthfulness. In other words, the answer to the question "Do I look fat in this" shouldn't always be "yes" for the sake of honesty - that kind of thing.

But he also has such a soft side, I'm often taken-aback by his kindness. A few weekends ago he was ensure that a property that he was putting on the market was left in good condition when it was vacated. While he was doing so, a few neighbors wandered over and started telling him horror stories about the former owner. I believe the guy was a scam artist at heart. One older woman told Manbug how the owner had sold her a bed and promised to come over to assemble it since she was entirely unable to do so by herself. Instead, he had deserted the property in the darkness of night and she was up the proverbial creek.

I was at home with a large Sunday lunch prepared, and was quite perturbed by Manbug's tardiness of over two hours - not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering his cell phone. Turns out, he was in the old lady's condominium assembling her bed and rearranging her furniture. I was just so touched by his willingness to help others - and I was proud. And my eyes filled up when he received an email from her telling him that he was a messenger of God. (I wouldn't go that far, but it was a nice gesture).

And I was proud again last night, but less so since it was diluted by hunger. We had just finished a bunch of errands for a property that needed appliances and light fixtures, and we had a long night of billing ahead of us. We stopped by Subway on the way home to grab some sandwiches and as we walked in, I spoke to the homeless woman that I often see in that strip mall. I asked how she was and she replied "Fine, but hungry." We entered the Subway, placed our order and Manbug asked that his foot long be split up and wrapped separately. (♫ ♫ ♫Five, Five, Five dollar foot long ♫ ♫ ♫).

I joked with him how he was putting on airs like he wasn't going to eat the whole thing (there have never been leftovers when he's around!) and he just nodded. The clerk put our order in two bags and we headed outside.

As we headed to our car, he promptly handed one of the bags to the homeless lady. She looked up from her book and her face lit up. "Now I've got a good romance novel and dinner. Thank you!" She looked happy. And I was happy.

Until I got in the car:

Me: You know, that was a sweet thing you did. But you gave her my sandwich.
Manbug: No I didn't, I asked the clerk to separate my sandwich into two parts.
Me: You did, but he put my sandwich in one bag, and your two parts in the other bag. We each had a personal bag.
Manbug: I don't think so.
Me: I know so, but it's okay because you heart was in the right place.
Manbug: We'll see when we get home.

Yep, we opened up the wrappings and there were the two halves of the Italian BMT with everything including jalapenos and olives (EWWWWW!) - not the turkey with cucumbers, peppers and mustard that I had ordered.

Manbug: Whoops. Are you mad?
Me: Seriously, how could I be? That would be the meanest reaction to what you did. You could wave down from heaven to me in hell if I felt that way. I'm proud of you, you're a kind person. But I'm still hungry.

So I had a bowl of ice cream for dinner and gave him a hug.

P.S. The "constant nausea" referred to the other day is NOT a pregnancy...more related to the fact that I totally carry stress in my stomach so when I'm upset or stressed or angry, I usually am nauseous and in the bathroom a LOT. But you guys are too funny!!!

Things I Learned at Target Yesterday

2009-05-20T10:57:00.008-05:00

I know it seems like I'm "dialing it in" a bit, but I do want to keep my blog updated despite my constant nausea and inability to complete any task because of the thousand more "to dos" next in line. Nevertheless, I had to make a quick trip to Target yesterday and it was quite the experience. As such, I have a few more lessons to share:

Regardless of how much your shoes hurt, it is NEVER okay to walk barefoot in a Target store.
Even if you are carrying said shoes.
Especially if you are dressed in business formal attire.
I need to stop associating my trips to Target with a iced venti skinny vanilla latte because enjoying such refreshment inevitably leads to a rushed trip to the ladies' room with my cart full of purchases waiting patiently outside. (To pee by the way.)
Nevertheless, this Target needs to get the cup holders that clip on to the side of the cart so that I don't lose my coffee three different times in one trip by putting it on the shelf near the sunglasses, or the shelf near the Tide, or the shelf near the t-shirts. It's embarrassing.
I have to refrain from purchasing these shoes in every color: I already have them in pink and white. I want them in green, blue, gold, black and silver. Overkill? Maybe.
Eventually everything I love goes on sale...so I just need to be patient. For example, a purse that I admired a long time ago was on sale for $9.98 yesterday. Who can say "no" to that? Not me!
Given that it's only been two minutes from the last time you asked, and in fact, you are still in the process of checking out the same order, I still don't want to apply for a Target credit card.

Thing with the house are at a bit of a standstill. There was one issue about the house that caused it to be stricken from our list the first time we saw it - namely that it was zoned for new construction a few lots over from what would be our property line. The more we look into the issue, the more we realize that maybe they don't plan on building the nicest housing there and it's likely to affect property values in the area once construction starts (not to mention the whole "beep beep beep" thing that will take place whenever construction equipment backs up and whether we could hear it from the yard/pricate oasis of "our" house. Sigh. It's a hard, hard, hard decision and we are truly on the fence because no one can predict what will happen.

In other news, I have decided to put land surveyors in the same professional category as weather people. It's always made me laugh that meteorologists don't really have to be "right" in their jobs - it's enough to say 50% of rain which in turn means there is a 50% chance it won't rain which is pretty much not a prediction at all, right? Well, I actually read a survey report that said something similar to "the property line runs from the third spindle on a heather tree located...". (Actually, I can't remember if it was heather, but the comment has more credibility if I name the tree). Really? First of all, what the fuck is a "spindle"? Secondly, what if someone cuts down the tree?

Which begs the question...if someone cuts down a tree and no one is there does the property line disappear?

Keep your fingers crossed that we make the right decision and that I'm not writing, a year from now, about our money pit.

P.S. I'm making progress on my Reader...I only have 213 unread posts - that's about a 95% reduction so I promise I'll be back to commenting soon. Thanks for your patience in the meantime and for still visiting me despite my reciprocity!

P.P.S.S. A shout-out to Petite Flower (one of my first and favorite bloggers) for being the ONLY one to comment on the worm! Is no one else horrified by the Sci Fi Channel size of that creature?Again, the pictures didn't work out but I swear it was larger than this.

Things I Learned This Weekend

2009-05-19T11:29:00.004-05:00

Hello my darlings! So sorry that it's been so long since I updated last - but things have been very, very busy at our little household. The kind of busy when you (1) actually run out of clean underwear and (2) your Google reader hovers around 4 figures every day. I've been unable to read and comment on a lot of my blogs, but I hope to catch up by the end of this week and get back to posting regularly myself. In the meantime, I'd like to give you a quick recap of our weekend through the lessons I learned:

While Indian food does raise your tolerance for alcohol, you will still feel like ass the next day if you eat and drink too much.
When it rains a lot, worms come out of the ground.
There does exist worms large enough that you will mistake them for (1) a snake, (2) shoelace for a high top or (3) the large intestine of a small household pet.
When you and your husband see a worm this large, it's likely that BOTH of you will scream.
When the worms raises the top half of its body from the ground like it's hissing at you, you might pee in your pants a little.
Flash photography does not work that will in the pitch dark when you are trying to photograph a worm.
Wine does not help this endeavor.
However, it does help to raise your husband's tolerance of icky/squishy things in that he will take the time to coax said freakishly large worm onto a stick and place it out of harm's way.
There is a 99.9% chance that your male dog will pee on a location where it smells you.
Like, say - in the area where you just saved a freakishly large worm's life.
Worms and dog pee do not mix.
Do not reheat and eat more Indian food after you had a large dinner because you will NOT feel like cleaning up the mess.
Sleep late on Saturdays if possible to avoid festering Indian food in kitchen.
Don't get your hopes up about a house that you fall in love with through pictures. Chances are it may look like cheap crap when you actually see the house.
Do, however, follow your instincts and drive by a house that you previously feel in love with but had certain issues you were concerned about.
Do approach the owner of the house, even if the house was withdrawn from the market, and tell him you love his house but are worried about (a), (b) and (c).
He might be a really nice guy and explain that (a), (b) and (c) don't matter that much.
Don't giggle when you husband writes a number on the back of his business card that you would be willing to pay for said house.
You will not feel like eating after you make an offer on a house - nausea will reign supreme.
Do squeal with delight when the owner's agent calls to tell you that the owner enjoyed meeting you very much and has accepted your offer.

We are "under contract" for a house y'all! It was a house that I had visited weeks ago and feel in love with and I'm even more in love now. We are planning on having inspections on Friday so keep your fingers crossed that everything works out.

Hell, I'll even bring the worm with us if he survived Murphy's onslaught of urine!

An Early Mothers' Day Tribute to My Mom (or Why I've Been Going to Professional Waxers Since the Young Age of 17)

2009-05-07T08:42:00.010-05:00

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the night before "Senior Cut Day" at my high school - a randomly picked day in May when seniors ditched their classes to celebrate the freedom and spontaneity of youth. Some seniors, including myself, had our parents' knowledge and apathetic acquiescence since we were already accepted and headed to college the following autumn. My friends and I, known as "The Nine" (don't laugh - there were nine of us and our class wasn't very creative when it came to clique names...it's better than the Pink Ladies, right?) were headed early the next morning to Barnegat Light in Long Beach Island - a paradise along the Jersey Shore.

Ignorant to the fact that I would spend most of my day shivering on the beach a result of the fickle weather of early May, I was up in my room preparing for our day. I had decided to "groom the greens" if you will, and had purchased a waxing kit from our local Rite-Aid.

My parents were out at a cocktail party of some sort, and thankfully I had the house to myself. I glanced at the directions, heated up the concoction and proceeded to spread it all over my girly bits.

Everywhere.

Then, I did what no girl should do while waxing...I lounged while reading a magazine and drinking a Diet Pepsi while I let it dry. (Perhaps it would have been more productive if I read the instructions instead).

After I had perused all of the interesting parts of the current Glamour, I turned my attention to my Magic-Shelled-Nether-Regions. It quickly became apparent that I did not know what I was doing. How did this stuff come off? I grabbed the directions, scanning them for some sort of hint, and then I saw it - I was supposed to apply the cloth strip to the wax while it was still wet and then rip it off.

My breathing turned shallow as I fussed over the mess down under. I alternatively tugged and screamed in pain. I didn't know what to do!!!!! I grabbed the phone and dialed my parents' friends in a panic. When my mom got on the phone, I just started crying and explained through gasps of breath what I had done. I can only imagine the amused look that crossed my mother's face as she excused herself and my dad to head home and rescue me.

She made the same attempts and realized, rather quickly, that it was futile. (Yes, she was down there, doing that. If that's not a mother's love, you tell me what is!). My mom is a resourceful individual with thousands of numbers at her fingertips in a worn out brown phone book stuffed to the brim with handwritten notes. She flipped through the book, with me begging in the background to "Please don't tell anyone what happened" and quickly dialed the number of a friend that was a nurse. I could hear her side of the conversation as I lamented my fate in the bathroom: "No, it's dry. Yes, it's everywhere. I can't rip it off. I tried that. And that. Yes, and that. I'll tell her." She hung up the phone and turned to me, "Kay thinks we should head to the Emergency Room."

NOOOOOOOOOOO! I entered full meltdown mode (not to mention, seriously, how the hell was I supposed to wear shorts and sit in a car with a crusty lower half!).

She calmed me down and instead of dragging me to the local hospital, she called the Emergency Room for some guidance. After she hung up the phone, she turned to me and said, "They really think we should come in...but they suggested that we try one more thing first." I had a spark of hope as I watched her fill the bathtub with scalding hot water and head to her sewing kit to grab some shears.

"Um, what are you doing?" I innocently asked as graphic and bloody visions passed through my head. "We're going to soften the wax with hot water, and then I'll have to cut your hair to remove what's left."

Oh, of course.

I laid in that bathtub for over four hours as my mother kneeled next to me and worked on getting this mess off my body (as I recall, my father sat in the living room rereading the same Daily News over and over again in an effort to remain scarce). I begged for death every minute, whining that anything would be easier than the pain she was inflicting on me - I was, after all, the queen of all drama queens, a teenager.

And then, as it neared midnight she said those magic words, "There - we're done."

I looked down at my neatly trimmed-somewhat bald hoo-hoo and gave her a watery hug as the tears streamed down my face (see drama queen reference above). I couldn't believe it was over. I applied some aloe at her suggestion, dried myself off and let her do something she hadn't done in a while...tuck me into bed.

And then I went to the beach and froze my ass off.

Shortly after that, my mother introduced me to Diane, an esthetician that specialized in waxing, and insisted that I never try to self-wax again. "Leave it to professionals," she said. And I've done that for 23 years.

It's funny, when people take about the love of a mother, I can't help but recall this completely irreverent ode to my mother's love. I can clearly recall her calmness, her devotion, and her patience, not to mention he willingness to leave a perfectly good cocktail party.

And so I say, Happy Mothers' Day Mom - you could probably work at Bliss and I love you for it!

Monday, Monday - La, La, La, La, La**

2009-05-04T10:27:00.004-05:00

Our little household is recovering from a fairly destructive and partially productive weekend. Friday night held a bit too much tequila in its hands. (My husband has not only come to love the Skinny Girl Margarita, he can now identify Bethenny on sight while I'm watching RHONYC.)

As a natural result of that, Saturday consisted of lots of naps and TV watching and puttering around the house.

Sunday was the productive day. Brunch at IHOP....

[Okay, a bit of a tangent here. Manbug and I were seated next to a
couple. We had a booth made for two. They had a booth made for four.
And they were seated on the same side of the booth. I have not seen such
extensive PDA since I accidentally clicked on a NSFW link which ended up
corrupting my computer. They would each take a bite of their food, chew a
little, AND THEN MAKE OUT. WITH FOOD IN THEIR MOUTHS. I was so
grossed out that we ended our breakfast much earlier than intended and headed
out the door before I threw up.

So tell me, do you ever sit on the same side of the booth as your
significant other?]

We then headed South to Manbug's office, picked up some paperwork, headed North to a property to check on some alleged hail damage (there was none) and then hit a mall to get one of Manbug's birthday gift (yes, his birthday is in October but this man has weird sized feet and finding a new pair of running shoes has proven quite difficult. Especially when the tryer-oner likens shopping to a prostate exam). Rounded up the evening with some meal planning and grocery shopping for me, a bike ride for Manbug, and tons of laundry folding for both.

And you know what I've decided....the weekend will probably be much more productive if I don't cram everything into one day. So that's the goal for next week.

[In addition to getting Manbug's present, I treated myself to a
new pair of Nikes (in pink!!!) I've decided that once I've made my
gym membership an asset, rather than a debit of our monthly payments, I'll treat
myself to the Ipod kit]. Stay tuned and let me know your thoughts if anyone has one!].

OH! One last thing - I'm not the only one that thinks Quizno's is creepy!

**Channelling The Mamas and The Papas

Waah.

2009-04-30T12:43:00.003-05:00

I'm so sorry I left y'all hanging after Monday's post - especially when I received so many supportive and "go got em" comments. But alas - the die has been cast and I'm mired in the depths of self-pity...

I have a bad stomach flu/bug. NO - I don't have the f-ing swing flu and I swear if one more person (mostly family) "jokes" about it I'm going to send them some flu-laced-hand-sanitizer so they spread germs all over their own hands. (Seriously though, Manbug has some face masks in his car for visiting properties under construction, etc. and his best friend bet him $250 to show up at his team meeting this morning wearing the mask. I told him that would be awesomely funny UNLESS someone else showed up wearing a mask and he/she was serious about his/her fear. Then it would just be awkward. But, he could comfort himself with the $250.).

Anyway, I'm sick. And I feel sorry for myself. And the only thing I've ingested in the past 24 hours ends in "ine" and "ale" - as in saltines and ginger ale.

The house hunting went OK - we didn't find anything we loved (oh wait - we did...and then we noticed a pile of legal documents on the counter which detailed the HUGE construction project that was slated to begin 200 feet from said house. So, no, we didn't).

We're fighting over a few issues - Manbug wants a house priced below market that requires a bit of work and will rise in value as a result. Also, he wants to spend a LOT less than we are approved for - a LOT. I want a mansion overlooking Lake Travis with 16k square feet, an infinity pool and a gourmet kitchen.

So, we differ a bit on that aspect of it.

But seriously, this process sucks and the only thing we have succeeded at is making it as difficult as possible. I have decided to be the bigger person and put my expectations on hold and let him propose the best house - this way, I won't have to listen to him bitch for the next three years while we live in said house (NO ONE has worse buyer's remorse than my beloved. He experiences it with everything from hair gel to cars. Seriously!). I'm just not going to fight this fight and I'm going to trust his instinct because when it comes to real estate, my man has a golden touch and GREAT foresight.

We'll find something eventually - we're not in a huge rush since we're month-to-month on our lease and we have a ton of money socked away for down payment, closing costs, furniture, etc. - so we can only improve our situation by waiting.

Let's just hope I don't suck the life out of our savings account by contracting the swine flu. WHICH I DON'T HAVE.

Excuse me - time to go visit the bathroom again.

House Hunters From Hell

2009-04-27T09:51:00.005-05:00

Said in the voice of Suzanne Wong:

TUWABVB and Manbug relocated to Austin, Texas from Dallas, and are finally looking for a home to call their own. The 950 square foot apartment in which they have resided for the last 9 months is no longer "cozy" - it's just small. Also, they have about 75% of their furniture and belongings in a Pod in Garland, Texas and they miss their finery.

They are scheduled to see approximately ten homes today, along with Manbug's mother who is in town to help with the process. (There are also more homes scheduled for tomorrow, but that's another episode).

Will they find a home that fits the needs of their family, and is worthy of every one's approval? Or, will too many cooks spoil the broth?

Will they become tired and cranky, say words they probably shouldn't say in front of one's mother, and end up strangling each other with the loser being buried in the back yard of one of these prospective homes (most likely a vacant one)? Or, will they find their dream home and crack open a bottle of champagne tonight?

Stay tuned! On the next episode of "House Hunters from Hell."

It's a Hell of a Town

2009-04-20T23:13:00.001-05:00

One of my favoritest bloggers is celebrating her new digs - go by and visit and learn how to pay it forward:

Anonymous New York

She's a great writer and an even better cook!

He is a boil on the butt of humanity!

2009-04-17T12:22:00.000-05:00

Long before I met my husband, and thus, long before I met my in-laws, I loved the movie "Steel Magnolias." I watched it over and over - always crying at M'Lynn's monologue at the cemetery - always amazed at the great one-line quotes threaded through the plot. Even my high school friends used variations of certain quotes, saying things like "You are too twisted for wine coolers" (it was the 80s - give us a break - color TV wasn't too impressive by that time), or "You know I love you more than cornflakes" (rather than "my luggage" because as of our teen years we had clearly not invested in appropriate luggage) or anything else that mattered at the time (although "I love you more than my Forenza sweater" doesn't have the same ring).

If for only that reason, I have always treasured that film. But little did I know that I was destined to marry into a family of Steel Magnolias.

My mother-in-law is the youngest of eight children. She grew up in a small town in Louisiana and comes from a long line of amazing women. She values family above all else and I love her dedication to her sisters and brothers, her husband and her sons. (And I'll never complain that because she has two sons and no daughters that I'm spoiled beyond heck!)

I remember the thrill I had when I first visited the family farm in Louisiana and was told that I would be spending a "girls' day" with my future MIL (she wasn't my future MIL at the time, she was only my boyfriend's mom but you know what I mean). She said that we were going to Natchitoches - I didn't understand the word she said. But then she said some magic words...

It's the town where "Steel Magnolias" was filmed.

I was showered and in the back of that car faster than you could say "I SLAPPED OUISER BOUDREAUX."

After getting to know my in-laws over the years, I realized, as a Yankee, that Southerners say a lot of things that are "quotable" and really, "Steel Magnolias" just captured that characteristic in film form. When we attended a family reunion almost a year ago, I found myself pulling out my Blackberry more times than I care to remember in order to jot down the gems I was hearing (and yes, I was an outcast because of this).

Yesterday, I was cleaning up my Blackberry and I found a long forgotten quote uttered by an aunt while she was telling a story about her husband who passed away years ago. This particular story concerned yard work, and I swear on a stack of Bibles this is how she ended the story:

I had him hoppin. I mean, I really had him hoppin because he had a botched
surgery and one leg was shorter than the other.

As was once said, "call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family:Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one."

Two Ships That Passed in the Night - And Then Backed Up

2009-04-16T09:52:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, as Manbug prepared for a business trip to Dallas, I stayed out of this way by parking myself on the couch to review two precious gems in my DVR line-up: new episodes of The Real Housewives of NYC.

He walked in during one scene when Bethenny was posing with a cocktail shaker and a t-shirt that read "Skinny Girl."

Manbug: Did she used to be fat?
Me: No.
Manbug: Is she a trainer?
Me: No.
Manbug: What does she sell?
Me: Um, different health products and recipes. Oh, and she has a new book out.
Manbug: And she didn't used to be fat?
Me: No - she's "naturally" thin. That's actually the title of her book.
Manbug: Naturally thin? Why the heck is she on this show? That's kind of rude to flaunt it.
Me: She's one of the stars.
Manbug: You watch the dumbest shows.

I was rather perplexed by this conversation until an hour later a light-bulb went off.

Me: You know, that show I was watching before? It wasn't "The Biggest Loser."
Manbug: Ah.

Reconnecting As a Family

2009-04-14T12:58:00.000-05:00

This weekend, my husband and I did something that we've never done before as a married couple. Something almost unthinkable given the unparalleled smotherliness of both of our mothers. (Get your mind out of the gutter).

We spend a holiday alone. As a married couple. Just the two of us. With no requirements to travel to Louisiana or New Jersey, and no relatives under our roof.

And it was amazing.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family - heck, I love his family! I know how lucky I am to have such wonderful and supportive people so close to me. But we have been married over two and a half years and it was time to do this. To act like our own family, if that makes sense.

And we had an amazing weekend. Friday night, we shared some cocktails with some friends and played "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader" on Xbox (turns out, after a few tequilas, we're not).

Saturday, we took a ride to Lake Whitney to see my husband's best friend/business partner and his family.

Yesterday, we woke up early, donned our dressy wear (suit for Manbug and dress for me), headed to Catholic Mass (Manbug lost a bet on this one, otherwise we would have been at a Baptist service - yes, nothing makes Easter special like a little sacrilegious wager), shared an amazing brunch on Lake Travis complete with mimosas, and then headed home for a nap. We woke up, had a casual dinner of French Dip, steak fries and chocolate pound cake with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, watched a bad movie (so disappointed in the Cohen Brothers and "Burn After Reading"), and then called it a day.

And for some reason, this simple act of spending a holiday alone just as husband and wife made me feel more a family of our own.

I think we'll try it again soon.

A life with love will have some thorns, but no roses.

2009-04-13T14:21:00.010-05:00

I had a post written for today which discussed happiness arising from a wonderful weekend. But nothing seems important right now.

It was a few years ago when I first stumbled upon Gorillabuns. I devoured each and every entry in her archives, staying up until the wee hours of the morning to get my fill. As I read Shana's writing, I thought to myself, "This! This is the type of mother that I hope to be!"

You see - she encompasses so many things...so many amazing qualities. She's loving, but humorous; respectful, but appropriately irreverent when necessary. She is always caring. Always real. Always putting herself last, but able to laugh about it.

When we started to chat via email and Twitter, I was so completely flattered that someone I admired so would take the time to talk to little old me. And that's one of her best qualities - she makes everyone feel special - especially her family.

When I was crying this morning, and Manbug asked me what was wrong, I said, "I don't understand it. So many children have passed away in the past few weeks. How does this happen? I can't believe the heartache!" He paused and then said, "I think these things have always happened, but we weren't aware of it because people far away like this might have been inaccessible to us." So, the Internet has succeeded in providing wonderful friendships by bridging the miles with special people, but it also reveals more heartache than I once knew existed.

Would I trade the friendships in order to be more immune to such heartache?

Never.

Please pray for Shana and her family, and of course the other families, that have experienced such loss and heartache recently. After this week, I'm not sure I'll ever be prepared to be parent - knowing that the possibility exists to have your heart shattered into a million pieces. I do know one thing - when/if I decide to become a mother, I have wonderful role models to guide my journey. Especially Shana.

And if you can help, in anyway, please donate to ease this family's suffering. Here is the original website entry providing the paypay account if you are having issues.

Hoppy Easter!

2009-04-10T13:39:00.003-05:00

Yes, I'm lame. But I save this cartoon on my computer so that I can use it every year at this time because really, it makes me laugh so hard that I snort and who couldn't use that right now?

All That and a Bag of Chips

2009-04-09T13:08:00.005-05:00

The following transpired between 8:45 a.m. and 10:45 a.m.:

Woke up at 8:45 a.m. for a 9:30 a.m. appointment to have hail damage assessed on husband's car (He had missed the first appointment so I graciously offered, a/k/a "I have to do everything around here," to take his car to this appointment seeing as he was leaving for a business trip this morning)
Brushed teeth, changed, put on deodorant, perfume and baseball cap. Gathered purse, etc. and realized dogs needed to go out
Let dogs out. Normally well-behaved dogs go bat-shit crazy and chase a terrified black fuzzy cat up tree. Cat can't climb very well (or he's pooping his pants) and he proceeds to slide down the tree trunk
Grab both dogs' collars to lead them back to patio so that the cat can muster up what's left of his dignity and head home
Murphy wriggles out of his collar and takes off like a bat out of hell after the poor cat again
I finally scream at both dogs and get them inside. Head out the door to have the car washed so that hail dents can be assessed.
Pull up to car wash and insert card
Card failed. Insert again
Card failed. Insert again
Realize card is facing the wrong way so insert card in correct manner.
Card failed. Insert again.
Card failed. Insert again.
Try another card. It fails. Insert again.
Pull through car wash and circle around to mini-mart. Explain the card reader is not working and I need to pay at register. Kind clerk explains to me that it's likely that the card was 'declined' due to insufficient funds (NB: Car wash is $6).
Bite my tongue and temptation to scream out my balance and pay for wash.
Pull up to wash to enter receipt number and realize that the f-ing automated car wash HAS ALREADY STARTED WITHOUT THE CAR IN IT.
Salvage what I can of car wash, but ending up leaving with some suds still on car.
Return home quickly because I forgot my Blackberry.
Get back in car, start to pull out of apartment complex and realize something smells.
Look down at shoe completely covered in dog shit.
Get out of car, swear at the top of my lungs and try to get shit out of crevices in running shoe.
Realize that this is hopeless and return home AGAIN to get new pair of shoes.
Suppress desire to smear it all over his face when husband when asks if I got dog shit all over his car.
Back in car and head to appointment.
Look down at car mat and spy minuscule piece of poop.
Don't have tissue/rag/towel/bag/paper, so take old water bottle and scoop up poop.
Realize that I don't want to get out of car again and instead, chuck water bottle into bushes (simmer down - I intended to pick it up AND recycle it when I got home).
Receive $1,895 dollar assessment of damage and am informed that the repairs will take 5 business days.
Also informed that there are no rental cars available, even though our policy covers it, because....you guessed it - all of the rental agencies' cars were damaged in the storm! Don't laugh at the irony of the situation with receptionist.
Head to dry cleaner.
Stop at Starbucks on the way to cheer myself up with a skinny vanilla latte.
Barista informs me they are out of SF Vanilla. (I have never, in my 4,569,264 visits to Starbucks received this reply).
Order latte with regular vanilla and cut-out Splenda to compensate for possible sweetness.
Realize, in the car, that latte tastes like ass. Thankfully, I only wasted over $4 on it.
Leave dry cleaner and head to bank to get new check registers since I haven't balanced our checkbook since February and I just want to start over.
Explain to curious Chase employee why we have four separate accounts even though it is NONE of his business.
Actually, it is his "business," but why should he care? Isn't that making more money for him since since they charge fees on most accounts?
Walk in the door in a grumpy mood and hear the local news speaking of possible hail storms this weekend.
Scream.
Realize, today is my dad's birthday and calm down.

There is so much sadness going around the blogging world lately, but sometimes it's still hard to keep things in perspective. My father had an incredible knack of doing this for me and it amazed me that he was able to do so today, even though he's not with me anymore. If I had called him in a funk he would have listened to my bitching and calmly explained that you have to ignore the small stuff. Because in the grand scheme of things, dog poop, declined credit cards, $1800 repair bills and shitty $4 coffee don't really matter. All that matters is those you love and those who love you.

Gosh, I'm so glad I didn't smear poop in my husband's face.

The Conversation That Immediately Preceded My Husband's Premature Demise

2009-04-06T16:41:00.004-05:00

Manbug: (enters room holding the waistbad of his pants out from his body) Hey - look at this! I think I've lost weight. My pants are totally loose.

Me: Really? That's great. (Not really what I'm thinking). How do you think that happened?

Manbug: (has left the room and is standing on the scale) Yep - I lost about13 pounds!

Me: Really? That's great. (Not really what I'm thinking). How do you think that happened?

Manbug: Well, remember when you went to NJ?

Me: Um, yea - three weeks ago?

Manbug: Yea, well I skipped a few meals while you were gone.

Me: #$(*%()#&()@#*$^%!$@#^$(*&*($#^)%$)#*($

Faith is not a thing which one loses, we merely cease to shape our lives by it.

2009-04-02T12:20:00.004-05:00

It's amazing how pets know when you need comfort. I had just taken a wonderful walk in the most amazing Austin spring weather and I entered our home thinking that life wasn't so bad. I quickly checked my email and saw a notification which I knew wouldn't contain good news. I clicked on the link anyway, and immediately tears filled me eyes. I quickly got up to let the dogs out, and as I stood in the sunshine and cried, my younger dog ambled up to be and let me bury my face in his fur.

I remember the day we met them. It was the first dinner of our honeymoon cruise and I was so thrilled that there were other newlyweds at our table. They had just been married in Dallas the night before and had left their reception earlier than planned because of the winter storms that were pounding the DFW area. We shared stories of our persistent and dangerous dash through sleet to reach Galveston and head to warmer climates as we raised our cocktails in celebration.

Obviously, we shared dinner with them almost every night (one night Manbug and I decided to order free room service and eat on our cabin's balcony). And despite my own lack of nostalgia aimed at avoiding clutter, I adored that she ordered the "shot of the night" every night and hung on to the souvenir shot glasses to commemorate their trip. We also shared one of my favorite excursions of the cruise - a drive to a beach in Mexico that seemed like it was at the end of the world. We sat on the beach and drank Coronas and laughed until we cried when she returned with a horrifying tale of the women's room that involved a bucket (thankfully her experience convinced me to avoid the bucket and pee in the ocean because we headed back to the ship). They had met in high school and married young, and you could see that they simply adored each other.

In all honesty, they made our honeymoon more enjoyable than it would have been if we were alone at the table. I remember covering my laughter and sharing looks of disbelief when I asked our other dining companion why she held her hand in the air when a certain song played every night and she promptly responded, "Its a Christian thing - you wouldn't understand."

They explained that as soon as the honeymoon was over, they were moving far away from friends and family so that he could accept a lucrative position. We kept in touch - sporadically at best, but I was still devastated when I learned that they had to return to Texas after he had been diagnosed with a rare type of cancer. At 26. They moved to Houston to be near one of the premier cancer centers, reconfiguring their lives on a daily basis and fought.

And yesterday, I received the update from his website that the fight was over. His doctor had explained to him that any additional treatment was futile and that he had, at most, six months to live. Knowing that they were married only two weeks after us, they've only been together as husband and wife for 2 years and 3 months...and they've been fighting almost from the beginning of their marriage.

I'm not writing this because this loss will impact our lives in a significant way - not to sound trite, but we'd only talked in person a handful of times since our honeymoon. I've kept abreast of his situation through a website and signed the guestbook numerous times to let them know they were in our thoughts and prayers. I'm writing this because the whole situation just makes me ache. For them. For their love. For the loss of what could have been.

It makes me feel ungrateful that I don't wake up and appreciate every day that I have with Manbug, and that sometimes, I yell at him for stupid stuff like leaving a light on or putting his dish in the sink when the washer clearly had dirty dishes in it. It makes me think that if it were me, would I really be happy with what I've accomplished in my life thus far?

My faith has been on fragile ground since I lost my father and I can't say that this helps matters. I'm not naive - I know that such devastating loss takes place every day - but I just can't wrap my mind around it. For the time being, I just need to appreciate what I have and pray for those that aren't as lucky, and hope that this heartache won't destroy the faith of his wife and family. But I also wonder how long it will take before I become complacent with things again and forget all of this. And that makes me sad too.

Tuesday TV Observations

2009-03-30T20:56:00.008-05:00

Lately it feels as if I'm on some sort of drug that makes you hyper-vigilant to ridiculousness. This altered state often arises when I'm watching TV - I sit in amazement of the state of America's TV entertainment. I mean, in all honesty, it's been a long strange trip from "Leave It To Beaver" to "Rock of Love."

Normally, my observations don't extend to commercials because most of the shows that I watch are on DVR. But something wonky is up with my remote lately, and I've caught a few commericals as a result of my inability to "drive" (Yes, Manbug calls it "drive." As in, "Let me drive - your picking shitting shows." He even does it when he's trying to help rectify issues on my comptuer. I believe it goes back to his IT days where he was much like Jimmy Fallon's beloved character - MOOOOOVE.)

If you don't mind, please let me share with you a few of my observations. I'm anxious to get your input beacuse there is a slight chance that I'm off-my-rocker and that these TV ads aren't nearly as offensive as I think they are.

I certainly don't consider myself a prude - by any stretch of the imagination. You'll always get a chuckle out of me for a "that's what she said" or fart jokes. But there are two commercials currently running on TV that are freaking me out. One, is TOTALLY inappropriate. Watch the video below around the 16 second mark.

Come on - "I'm not doing that again it burned" and "Put it in me Scott"? Am I the only one a bit horrified at the allusion that Scott is having kitchen sex with a hot oven?

Another commercial that freaks me out? Papa Chester. I laughed at the orange hand-prints that he advised Vanessa to leave on Cody's mom's jacket. And honestly, I even love the premise of the second commercial - especially because you know that girl is a bitch from the way she says "six handed monkey." But look at the end of the commerical - WHY is he kissing a pigeon and for the love of all that is holy, what the hell is the pigeon wearing? Did he just come to meet Papa Chester after his meeting for Lovers of World War II Paraphenalia?

Actually, I just Googled the helmet issue and was informed that it's a hood that is used when transporting birds of prey to keep them calm.

There's a reference that the Cheeto-lovers of this world will certainly understand.

I Was Going to Write an Informative Post About TV...

2009-03-30T13:52:00.003-05:00

but then I learned that I'm a sloth (see below). I got this idea from a friend's blog, and to be honest, I'm a bit miffed that I'm apparently lazy and asexual. So I'm going to skip the meaningful post about my laziest habit, and head to the gym. Then I'm going to attack my husband when he wakes in the door from work.

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Low
Sloth:	High
Envy:	Medium
Lust:	Very Low
Pride:	Medium

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

Try the Seven Deadly Sins quiz yourself. It's nice - like the quiz says, "If you are bound for hell, discover what sin will send you there."

Outakes from The City That Never Sleeps

2009-03-26T08:27:00.001-05:00

So, not everything made it into my last post....to be honest, I was sick of uploading photos and was bored from reading my own words. So here are a few of the tidbits that didn't make the "cut."

1. The Singing Priests:

Well, we know that there is a huge influx of "celebrities" from the Emerald Isle. First, there was Riverdance. Then, Lord of the Dance. Sometime after, although I'm not sure how much since I don't care, there were Celtic Woman. Then, the N-Sync version called Celtic Thunder. Wasn't that enough? NO? Apparently, then the Catholic Church decided to get involved that there was The Priests. These guys have a major record deal and they tried to slink by the reviewing stand at the parade but my mom spotted them! And had them come up and sing "Hail Glorious Saint Patrick" for all to see. And hear. And of course, they wouldn't sing unless she joined them:

That's my mom in the mink with the red hair. Funniest part of the day? Her sister called her to say that my mom's singing was on the local New York news and added, "You'll never get a singing contract."

2. Bedbugs:

Did any of you know that there is a bed bug epidemic in NYC? Did you know that bed bugs actually exist? Yes. And I watched the news story about them while sleeping in a hotel bed. Suffice it to say that it's a huge personal victory that I didn't end up running naked down Lexington Avenue in the wee hours of the morning.

3. Drunken Party-Animals:

I told you about the unfortunate incident at the concert on Monday night. I did NOT tell you that on Tuesday, my mom attracted three separate groups of drunken men, and one drunken elderly woman, while we were eating dinner. Since when did 50 years become an acceptable age gap people? LAY OFF! She's 72, widowed and NOT AVAILABLE. Honestly, I was ready to call it a night when another elderly woman walked up to our table while we were eating dinner and proceed to flip her PINK FEATHER BOA in my mom's face. When I asked her to leave, she said that I didn't need to worry about her until she asked for money.

4. My Husband:

He said that he wouldn't miss me - and to a certain extent, I believed him. We honestly needed a little absence to make our hearts grown fonder. But it all ended about 24 hours after I landed in NY and he called because he couldn't access our Pizza Hut account on-line to order a pizza. I love that man and he cannot live without me. Score!

5. Publicity:

We weren't at the steps of St. Patrick's for more than 10 minutes before my mom was interviewed by a certain celebrity on 1010 Wins. My cousin called me shortly after that to tell me that she had heard my mom on the radio during her morning commute. Of course, John asked me about Texas and I SAID SOMETHING TOTALLY STUPID, but thankfully, it wasn't included in my mom's interview. Apparently, I'm not worthy. :)

She also took part in an interview with Magee Hickey but my mom graciously explained that the mass was being said to honor the Sisters of Charity and perhaps they should be interviewed:

Don't be upset - my aunt was watching the parade that day and explained that my mom had been featured on the news no less than 12 SEPARATE TIMES. Then she asked where I was. Apparently I didn't show up in a single shot.

I'm sure Freud would have a field day with this whole thing, but I'm happy in giving her the spotlight. She's always loved it, and to be honest, I don't need it...my eye cream isn't working as well as it used to.

The People Ride in a Hole in the Ground

2009-03-24T17:04:00.000-05:00

My trip to New York was interesting and exhausting to say the least. I definitely felt like a recent 40-year-old while running around the City...except for one major detail - I was chasing after a 72-year-old! My crazy mother! That woman is a New Yorker born and bred - and nothing infuses energy into her like being in Manhattan. I actually had to cry "Uncle" a few times and suggest that it might be a good idea to go to bed before the sun rose. We had a fun-filled week - and lots of wonderful memories were made. They won't necessarily replace the ones that my parents made together on their annual March-pilgrimage, but they will certainly stand on their own in the annals of our family history.

I landed late on Thursday night and spent Friday recuperating and doing some work. We had dinner at the restaurant that my parents ate at every Friday night for over thirty years. My mom hadn't been back there in a long time, but it was Friday night during Lent and pizza was on the menu.

Saturday morning demanded a hair appointment at one of my old NJ salons where my previously horrific haircut was remedied and honestly, I'm in love! I haven't had a bob that was this even and easy to style! In my defense, the stylist laughed and called over a few others to look at the horror that was my Tetris-like hair. That afternoon held a lunch date with a close friend from law school (and our respective moms). Then, my mom and I headed into NYC for an evening with The Celtic Women. In all honesty, I wasn't impressed. I felt like I was watching four women in prom gowns doing a horrible arm dance. I honestly can't quite explain it - but these women stood on one of the most elegant stages and sang songs written by others (Enya, Sting, Van Morrison) and waved their arms.

There was one member of the troupe of ran around the stage like a meth-crazy addict in search of a screw missing from the toaster that she recently disassembled at 3:00 am. (Seriously, she is super talented, but you HAVE to watch the video and tell me if I'm crazy). Of course, the crowd - loved them. I credit this to the aptly-timed fog machine and the Celtic-like patterns on the ceiling from purple lights. Also, alcohol. In fact, the terribly drunk 60-year-old behind us seemed to enjoying the show as he directed his wife to "Clap for me" because he was apparently too inebriated to put his own hands together. On the plus side?

Green lights in the champagne!

Sunday consisted of church, brunch, visit to the cemetery and an early bedtime. Monday, we headed into NYC much later than was first anticipated (so I was unable to meet one of my favorite bloggers as planned), but we checked into our Irish hotel and headed to a bar to have dinner and see an Irish band that my mother adores). This is where our trip started to get a bit weird. While I paid the check on the second floor, my mom headed to the third floor (seriously, can we talk about the amount of real estate that this family owns in Manhattan) to secure seats for the concert. As I ventured up the stairs, I noticed two somewhat-inebriated Irish boys talking it up with my mom AND BUYING HER DRINKS. Guys - have I mentioned that she's 72? Is that ever proper? Legal? Anyway, the band took the stage, the guys got drunker and one of them decided to walk across the stage and sit on my mom's lap during one of the songs. I was VERY uncomfortable at this point. I began to feel vulnerable and annoyed - my dad wasn't there to help (for obvious reasons), nor was my 6"2' husband (who makes me feel safe wherever I go). So, I did what any ex-NYer/current-Texan would do. No, I didn't pull out a concealed weapon. I pushed him off her lap onto the floor, told him to take off and signaled to security (who had already been watching this guy) that this was NOT okay. But honestly, the music was great and we did have a great time!

Tuesday was the high holy day and we left the hotel around 6:00 a.m. to head to Saint Patrick's Cathedral to attend mass.

We then headed up to the reviewing stand for the parade at 63rd and 5th and proceeded to have a wonderful time! I had never experienced the parade this way - sitting down, with accessible bathrooms nearby, and no drunken idiots crowding you. It was heaven! Also, since you are near the TV cameras, all of the bands play music and execute their routines before you. It was amazing! Some highlights:

Irish Kilts!!

Irish Dancers!

Irish NYC Policemen!

And, of course, the most important part of any Irish parade - the bagpipes!

I must say, however, that my Texas-heart swelled with pride when a high school band from Coppell, Texas strutted their stuff down Fifth Avenue. They were so amazing and so in-line with each other:

There was one moment during the parade when I started to cry - and please excuse the horrible quality of these pictures, but I feel compelled to share them despite the fact that my tears got on the lens and blocked most of the shots.

There were 343 New York City Firemen killed during the attacks of 9/11. Each year in the parade, the NYC Fire Department carries a flag in honor of each of their fallen brethren. For a moment, there is just a sea of American flags as far as the eye can see - unless of course your crying, in which case you can't see very far.

We stayed at the parade until after 4:00 p.m. (the television coverage lasted until 3:00 p.m. and the sun started waning around 2:00 p.m. - so this shows my mom's obsessiveness, er - our devotion.We ended up having dinner at the hotel that night - I was in my PJs and cuddled in bed by about 9:00 p.m. EXHAUSTED. We headed home to NJ on Wednesday, had dinner with my cousin her two sons (including her eight-month old Butterball. Seriously, this child has so much adorable baby fat that he looks like he's wearing rubber bands on his arms in four places!)

Thursday, I headed to Newark and proceeded to board the SXSW Charter Flight where every passenger had some sort of instrument at a carry-on. One passenger became particularly agitated when the flight attendants explained to him that no, there was no room for his TWO guitars in the overhead seeing as how he had boarded the plane LAST and everyone else had already stored their belongings. Sigh.

I actually sat next to two band members who were playing in SXSW on Friday night. They were so, so nice and I hope their concert went well. I spoke to them at length during the flight and thought I would show them some support by trying to see them play, but they explained to me that they don't play "Top 40" music. And I explained that I liked all kinds of music, blah, blah, blah...and they said again, how it was "not Top 40 music."

I sucked on my Bloody Mary and wondered what it was about me that screamed "mainstream." As I reached down to turn off my Ipod Touch, I saw this on the screen:

Although, to give me some credit, I believe it was Pink singing at the time. I mean, she's cutting edge, right?

(snort)

I'm Back and In Love

2009-03-20T15:54:00.004-05:00

I've returned safely to my new hometown and although I had a wonderful time in NYC, I'm glad Austin is my home. I came home to some very happy canines and a husband that missed me more than I thought possible. Right before I left, we were reaching a somewhat awkward stage in our sharing of a 950 square foot apartment where we both live and work - in fact, I even joked whether he would miss me at all. He joked back, "I will, but maybe not until Tuesday or so." Truth is, we love each other but we both needed to stretch our arms without knocking into someone else's space for a few days. It's good to be home and I'll give you the top ten reasons why:

1. I landed in Austin and spring had sprung - 80 degree perfect weather greeted me at the curb while I waited for Manbug to pick me up.

2. Manbug arrived with the LARGEST bouquet of flowers that I have ever seen, picked me off my feet in a hug and just said, "I missed you so much." He then proceeded to block other traffic while he opened the door to the car for me.

3. Murphy nearly fell over from wriggling so hard when he saw me at the door.

4. Riley abandoned her long standing policy of giving the cold shoulder for a few hours after I return from a trip and I could actually hear her thoughts of "screw it" while she sidled up for a hug.

5. My apartment was clean. SO clean. Suspiciously clean considering it housed a man and two dogs for a week....

6. Clean pajamas (because really, although I wear a different pair every night at home, it's just obnoxious to bring seven pairs when you travel for a week).

7. Mexican food! New Jersey and New York are famous for many things - but one of them is NOT Mexican food.

8. BLOGS! I miss my daily reads! Mom's dial-up connection almost caused me to take my own eye out with a spoon, but I'm at home with Road Runner wireless connection. (Of course, the down side is my FOUR FIGURE amount of unread posts in my Google Reader but I will catch up over the weekend).

9. House hunting - we are starting out hunt this weekend/early next week. We need/want to be out of this God-forsaken shoe box by May 15th...so we have to hit the ground running.

10. My husband - nothing makes me happier than waking up next to him, laughing at his goofiness and taking care of him for a few days (after that, the normal rules kick in and it's every man for himself).

I'll update y'all on my trip next week. Lots of fun in NYC with some funny stories and pictures to be shared!

The Real Houswives of NYC, But Really, An Ode To Bethenny

2009-03-12T12:15:00.001-05:00

In keeping with my pending trip to NYC in a few hours, I had to share my thoughts on the recent return of The Real Housewives of New York. I love this show with the heat of a thousand suns. It is just dead-on entertainment to me! Maybe it's because I grew up in New York and I have witnessed many of the portrayed stereo-types first hand, both in Manhattan and in the Hamptons. Maybe it's just the sheer frivolity of it all. I can't quite place my finger on it, but those women conjure up a perfect storm for me and I am on the edge of my seat without moving for the full hour of each episode.

Ramona:

I truly think this woman is certifiable. She even has "crazy eyes" which keeps with Manbug's theory (if you can see the whites of some one's eyes all the way around the pupil, they are crazy. I hate to say it, the theory has proven correct thus far). And honestly, she's like a dog with a bone when it comes to certain topics - she just won't let them drop! I think she's great for entertainment value - did you see her dancing at the party in the Hamptons in the last episode? All in all, she doesn't do much for me...I can take her or leave her.

Kelly: Kelly is new this year, and I have to be honest, she's rubbed me the wrong way so far. Not that I disagreed with her ignoring Ramona prior to the competition at the Hamptons Classic - I'm not sure I'd want to be seen with that hot mess from the porn version of the Kentucky Derby either, but there is something about her. Also, she tried to act like a little girl, skipping in short skirts and flat, but yet she comes across as very mannish. Also, I'm wondering how they will handle the fact that the recently turned herself in to the New York City Police for beating up her boyfriend!

Alex (and of course, Simon): Honestly, I could devote a whole post to the hot mess of Alex and Simon. Although they truly seem to love each other, there is something utterly creepy about these two. And gosh, I won't even get into the emotional scars that my psyche is now sporting thanks to seeing Simon getting a spa treatment. I recently read that Alex lost her job at Victoria's Secret but that the family is doing okay while living on Simon's salary as general manager at the Hotel Chandler. Just how much to GMs of hotels make? But honestly, those two earned their keep while shopping in the Hamptons at Blue & Cream. I about snarfed out my cereal at Simon's seersucker short suit with green suede driving moccasins. I mean, come on - YOU'RE GAY. I will give credit where credit is due - Alex looked amazing in her bandage dress. And honestly, they seem to love their kids, but I think there may be some therapy issues in the future for those two boys.

Luann: I don't have a lot to say about her...I find her, rather boring and not "all that" (despite her thoughts of herself). Her insistence at being called "The Countess" just makes me laugh. She seems to have some genuinely good qualities, but she also seems to play both sides of factions when they arise. And the teenage girl inside me cringed at her daughter's going-away "party." I cannot believe that Luann thought it was acceptable to sit and lecture the girls about manners during the last social event her daughter was able to attend before leaving for school. Again, to focus on the positive, she was like a mother hen when her daughter was upset and her husband was not there, but most of the time, there's a sensitivity chip missing on this woman. And please, someone tell me that that boulder on her right hand is some sort of gumball machine ring...because I have never seen a real jewel that large! I literally paused my DVR to focus on it - gorgeous! I also had a lot of respect for her when she marched to the stage and admonished the crowd to hush during the cancer benefit...although, she then returned to her seat and kept right on chatting.

Let me finish up with my favorite two Housewives....

Jill: I love Jill. I think she is honest and loving and flawed...just like me! I love that she called Silex after the bit appeared in Page Six about Simon drinking too much (seriously, how f-ing funny was that). Her apology wasn't perfect, but she made an effort. She just wants to be loved - by her daughter and her mom and her friends. I see a bit of Jill in myself I think - always bending over to help others, sometimes at the expense of yourself and the constant need for affection. She doesn't seem too pretentious, and she's not afraid to make fun of herself. She also knows when to let things go and when to fight them out. I, for one, wouldn't have let Luann get away with missing her commitment to pack swag bags, but Jill didn't mention it and filed it away for later! And I have to believe that any woman that has such a wonderful relationship with her teen aged daughter has something going for her. All in all, I think she's a good person and she makes me laugh my ass off - and I love her relationship with my most favorite.....

Bethenny: This woman, is hands down, the funniest thing. I have such a girl crush on her! And the things out of her mouth -

"Why are you plugging it in? What era are you in?" - When discussing vibrators and Alex's suggestion that they be plugged in.

Do you remember the episode at the horse race? Where everyone was referring to one guy as "Black Joe"? Bethenny expressed her disgrace that that by saying, "Oh, you're Black Joe? I'm White Bethenny and that's Jewish Jill."

When referring to Alex's children hacking away at her boyfriend's $30 burger at The 21 Club, "So your children can translate Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star into Latin? I'd say it's more important to learn not stab at your burger repeatedly. I mean, what's going to be more useful in life."

When Jill showed up to a real estate appointment wearing a fringed suede outfit, "Cher called - she's missing her outfit" or when she wore a mu mu to the beach she referred to Jill as "Maude."

When referring to the Countess' comment about airbrushing, "You mine as well say you're ugly and you need some help."

I was heart-broken when I saw the season's preview and Jill seemed to be yelling at Bethenny to leave some party...I hope those two don't end up fighting because they are comic gold to me.

So who is your favorite Housewife?

I'm heading to the airport in a few hours to go visit my hometown. I'm definitely going to try to post while in NJ, but I think my mom still has dial-up (the HORROR), so we'll have to see how that goes. (Although I can probably lug her laptop to Starbuck's).

The Mystique of Feminine Products

2009-03-11T09:00:00.002-05:00

Let me first start out by saying that I am NOT pregnant.

But I'm hormonal and annoyed nonetheless. Because apparently, the ONLY "person" that has any working knowledge of my menstrual cycle decided to stop alerting me as to my pending fertility and periods. Now, I'm no expert on websites that serve as reminder and tracking devices, but I think it's safe to assume that if my user profile authorizes multiple email alerts to remind me of my fertility and my period the week before, three days before, two days before, the day before and the day of, you would think that the website would realize, after it didn't receive any input from me for two months, that perhaps it should touch base. Because clearly I'm not capable of monitoring my own ovaries.

Even my husband noticed the lack of fertility announcements (since apparently I usually share these emails with the household in a "T Minus 3 days until...." sort of way) and wondered if I had given it any thought. So I did...and I realized that I couldn't remember when my last period had taken place. I visited my website profile and it showed that my last recording was in December. NICE. Long story short, I went to Target to get a pregnancy test yesterday and was overcome by the need to pee - a sure sign of pregnancy, right? Probably not a symptom this early on, I thought...but clearly, my willingness to use a Target bathroom indicated something was amiss! Alas, I got my period then and there and before I had even laid down the cash for a pregnancy test.

Relieved, I ventured into Starbucks, purchased a nice venti non-fat latte, and headed to the tampon aisle. I've never been able to keep track of my period and it always come as a shock to me. It only usually lasts only a day or so and is always very light, so I always end up purchasing the necessary products at the last minute with quarters in the firm bathroom, or at the local 7-11 which was close to our old house. And a box lasts me a very, very long time. But yesterday I seemed to recall that I was running low so I wandered the aisle sipping my coffee and was immediately reminded of the first time I ventured to use one of these lovely items.

It was summer and we were in my most favorite of places, LBI. I had just shared lunch with my cousin overlooking the ocean, and I was wearing a new light pink bathing suit from Bergdorf's that I was in LOVE with. When I ran to the bathroom after lunch, I discovered that I had my period for only the second time in my life at that point. I panicked - my mom was a long way down the beach. I was a total water bug and had every intention of spending the afternoon in the surf. It was also pretty apparent that my delicate pink suit would not contain any type of feminine layering. So I ran to the nearest deli, grabbed whatever I could find and huddled in the bathroom stall with my cousin crouched over the directions.

I hadn't yet had a chance to ask my mom about using these things, but I figured, how hard could it be? All my friends raved about how easy they were and how you could hardly tell you were wearing one. Granted, I was a smart girl in many ways, but I didn't realize where the applicator needed to be in order for this contraption to work. I assumed that it stayed outside your body and basically "shot" the tampon up where it needed to be. (Hey, don't laugh. My cousin was with me and she agreed this seemed like the logical conclusion).

It felt horrible. And painful. And I could NOT for the life of me understand what everyone was raving about! But I was a woman now and I had to deal with such issues. So I flushed the toilet, washed my hands and headed down the beach with the tampon hanging partially out of my body (I believe that it probably looked like I had small penis under my bathing suit). I think my problem was apparent once I returned to my family on the beach. My mom scooped me up, tied a towel around my waist to cover my recently acquired manhood, brought be back to the bathroom (all while stifling her laughter) and as she had done so often in my life, showed me the proper method to do something.

And you know, I could hardly tell it was there.

Things That Are Pissing Me Off

2009-03-06T12:02:00.009-06:00

I know there is an admirable movement going around the Internet where people are focusing on the good in their lives. Unfortunately, I'm not in that kind of mood today. I'm in the opposite mood. And although I'll be able to remedy a few things on this list, and thus, maybe have a more positive focus in a day or so, I like to get things off my chest...so here you go. Part 85,678 of What Is Pissing Me Off:

1. The Old Navy website: Yes, I know I've bitched about this before, but you know, I really wanted a certain pair of shoes last night (in two colors - nude and pink), but I'm not sure that it was worth the 83 minutes that it took to order them.
I think the site might be slow because it's linked up to Gap, Piperlime and BR - if so, I think the Internet can handling typing it those website, or better yet, clicking on bookmarks, enough so that the company can take the marketing risk to separate them. If that's not it, hire some IT people - I'm pretty sure you can afford it and the IT world could likely use the money. I know that two pairs of shoes for $39 is a deal, but I'm still not sure it's worth the frustration.

2. The Economy/Above the Law/Every Other Media Outlet: I know that everyone is being affected by the horrible economic in certain ways, but the media's coverage of the dire circumstances are sucking me in. It's like a tractor beam of doom. I seem to be receiving feed updates from Above the Law every five minutes detailing another round of layoffs at firms that friends are working at. I'm afraid to touch base with law school classmates out of fear. I know that spending six figures on higher education doesn't guarantee a job or a career, but the law school told us that it did!

3. My Husband's Email Alerts: Being the ex-IT geek that my husband is, he decided to set up different email alerts depending upon the sender. So, certain important clients get special alerts that tell him to read that email now rather than later. He has this set-up on his Blackberry and his home computer. But one alert really annoys me. It's from one of his favorite movies - the alert is actually a sound bite of Mr. Pacino's voice and the grammar drives me nuts:

Okay - want to know something funny? I thought, for the past 8 months, that he was saying, "All I have in this world is my THOUGHTS and my words...." and I was writing to complain about the grammar - because I hated hearing that error 150 times a day. But apparently he's not saying "thoughts," he's saying "balls." How fucking stupid is that? Really, all you have IS your BALLS and your WORD. That's weird, because I thought those millions gave you a few other things too. I never saw the movie and now I never will.

4. My Upcoming Vacation: I'm heading to NYC for a week to visit my mom and take part in the Irish high holiday. We have many, many plans that relate to the Emerald Isle. On Saturday night, we are heading to this lovely theater to see some Irish women sing. Then, for two nights we are staying in an Irish hotel so that we can attend mass and see the parade from the Official Reviewing Stand at 64th Street and 5th Avenue (hey, at least we get to sit down). It will be the first time that my mom has celebrated her favorite time of year in about 3 years (since before my dad got sick) and I know she's looking forward to it. The downside, even though the 10 day forecast isn't encompassing March 17th yet, I'm seeing a high of 40 degrees on March 15th. 40! Yes, I know that some of you put up with this every year for a few months, but I don't and I'm a delicate flower. And I don't want to stand outside for 15 hours in 30 degree weather! And I know I'll end up paying a fee for packing too many sweaters!

5. Murphy's Breath: God knows we love this dog,

But he has to get his teeth cleaned. The situation has reached Def Con One (i.e. we don't let him breathe in our presence), but I don't want him to go in for surgery right before I go away for a week, so it has to wait until I get back (Yes, my husband can take care of him but he needs his mama!). The good news? I only have to smell him until I leave.

6. Candles: I'm out of them. For relevance, see No. 5

7. Friends: Just found out that a friend who was receiving experimental treatment for an aggressive cancer is not responding as hoped. This, in a nutshell, sucks. We met this couple on our honeymoon and were immediately bonded to them. He's only 27 and they have been fighting this as a couple since right after their honeymoon two years ago. Please keep them in your prayers. I hate cancer.

That's all for today. Please make me feel like I'm not a raging lunatic and let me know what is pissing you off!

Man's Best Entertainment

2009-03-04T14:01:00.011-06:00

It has been said that a laugh costs too much when bought at the expense of virtue. The laughs that have accompanied a $131 vet bill?

Totally worth it.

Apparently, my older dog, Riley, has an appetite for her tail. Last year, while at work conference, I received panicked text messages from my husband. He had returned home from a business luncheon to blood spatter all over our walls (apparently, when you wag a bloody tail, a CSI-like scene occurs). Turns out, Riley had bitten her tail down to the bone. With the intervention of a vet, and my husband's constant changing of bandages and baby-sitting, we were able to save her tail, albeit with a HUGE lump of scar tissue. She seemed ignorant of this monstrous entity until the other day. We woke up to pools of blood all over the apartment. The carpeted apartment I might add. We bandaged it up, five times between early Sunday morning and Monday afternoon. What we didn't realize when we adopted Riley, was that she had a second career as a contortionist, in case her first choice as an adorable puppy failed. I brought her to the vet on Monday and was encouraged to purchase the satellite collar so that we can, at the very least, get some sleep without worrying about her Houdini-like tendencies. And hilarity has ensued. A list of things that had made me laugh in the last 24 hours:

When the collar was first placed around her neck, Riley plowed into the examining table, the vet, the door, the wall and an innocent spectator in the waiting room - all in under 25 seconds;

On the trip home, she got the collar stuck on a hook in the back of my truck and stayed that way until I was able to pull over and free her;

Once home, she got the collar stuck on a level on Manbug's office chair and couldn't move until we stopped laughing long enough to untangle her;

She became completely stuck in a doorway when she tried to turn around to exit the office (I actually wet my pants a little at this point);

You can hear her coming from, at least, a mile away;

When she tried to sniff the ground outside, she ended up offing some unsuspecting flowers;

She became stuck on the license plate of a neighbor's car as she walked along the grass;

We figured that we had laughed enough at her expense, so we decided to try it out on Murphy (he's not the brightest bulb in the tanning bed if you get my drift - name that movie!). After clawing at the smooth surface for about a minute, he almost knocked over a rather large bar stool. I was feeling particularly evil at this point, so I placed a treat in the cone - he could see it but not reach it.

And then I had to go and change my underwear.

And yes, I know that if God is in fact a Dog, we are going to hell (like that fact wasn't cemented by our purchase of a remote control car years ago for the sole purpose of canine play!)

The One Where My Attempts To Be More Green and More Financially Responsible Fail Miserably

2009-03-03T15:44:00.004-06:00

As you all know, I have been making sincere attempts at revamping my budgetary and ecological awareness. Instead of throwing away money on useless things without regard to cost, I have made a 180 degree turnaround. I've also become more accountable to Mother Earth - including neurotic cleaning-up after my canines, strict recycling of household items, and thrifty purchasing of environmentally sound household products (see how I combined the two in that last thing? I'm good).

When I first started this journey of personal financial and carbon footprint awareness, it was not without some bumps and bruises. I even went so far as to muse that if I reflected on the latter half of 2008, that I would see impressive progress. In fact, my husband recently joked that we have completely swapped roles - he is now hemorrhaging cash (speeding tickets, subsequent defensive driving course, extensive client expenses for which we must front the money and eventually and hopefully, be reimbursed, and an updated work wardrobe). While, I, on the other hand, rest peacefully upon my high horse of financial responsibility. (Although, God help me I still do not understand the cash back process at CVS).

Well, as one person-that-came-up-on-a-Google-search-of-laurels said, "Resting on your laurels is as dangerous as resting when you are walking in the snow. You doze off and die in your sleep."

This past weekend's experiences were especially frustrating and humbling:

Scene: An unnamed salon in south Austin that provides discount services.
The catch? Your stylists consist of individuals that have a cosmetology license, but have not yet finished the salon's extensive training program.
The cost? Haircuts run between $10 and $30.
The issue? I was so proud of myself when I found this place. My husband had always teased me about the difference between our hair costs. Yes, he could spend more than $20 on his cuts, but they work for him. So when I found that I could have the ability to tie, or better yet, beat his cost - I jumped at the chance!
The result? Not good. At all. First, my hair was cut while combed back in an Elvis-like pompadour (as I questioned the stylist, I was told this was called "transition cutting." You know what? If Google can't find it, IT DOESN'T EXIST!). Second, I ask numerous times if the cut was uneven in the front and was assured that no, it wasn't. SPOILER ALERT: IT WAS. I remedied this by hacking off the offending tendrils with my kitchen shears while I straddled the toilet yesterday. Third, my side bangs that I requested...I must have slurred my words and said "bangs that look like a failed attempt at Tetris." My husband felt so bad for me when he saw the clear disappointment on my face (and the jagged mess on my head), that he encouraged me to go to the best salon in town and have it fixed. But I'm nothing if not stubborn.

Scene: Randall's Market.
The catch? I never buy deli meat at the counter any more. It's too expensive and we always end up throwing it out before it's used up.
The cost? A special was being run for turkey breast at $4.99 a pound!
The issue? The jovial clerk gave me 1.25 pounds of turkey breast instead of the .75 pounds requested. She felt so bad, so instead of making her waste it, I took it.
The result? Not only did she give me too much turkey, but she charged me the regular price of $7.99 rather than $4.99!! So, instead of paying $3.75 for my 3/4 pound of sale turkey, I paid $9.99. Yes, I should have caught the mistake but my sight was blocked by MY JOAN JETT HAIR.

Scene: My patio surrounded by lovely houseplants included the one hanging plant that, in an effort to be more environmentally conscious, we have allowed Derrick to inhabit.
The catch? As I was viewing a particularly beautiful sunset, I was accosted by the damn bird, dive bombing my head as I shrieked various obscenities at the top of my lungs.
The cost? My dignity, a bit of hair and my neighbors' innocence.
The issue? Apparently, when you allow a wild animal to live somewhere, they become very territorial.
The result? Derrick better watch out because as far as I'm concerned, it's house wren hunting season and he's wearing a t-shirt that says "Shoot Me."