Maggie's Moist Lips

My dog loves chapstick. I don't know why. She goes through a tube a week. Sometimes two if we're not careful and leave them out.

On weekends, when both adults are home, we're never sure if Maggie gets fed. Neither of us wants to double feed her because she's starting to GET FAT!

Unfortunately, we don't have a checks and balance system of making sure she only gets one breakfast a day. Occasionally we remember to check in with each other to avoid the double feeding, or worse, no feeding at all.

This morning's dog diet check-in:

"Did Maggie eat yet?"

"Well, if you count chapstick...."

Reading Up Close Bad for Eyebrows

"Alex get your glasses. It's not good for your eyes to be four inches from the page."

"I'm okay."

"That's not good for your eyes. Go get your glasses."

"He's not reading with his eyes. He's reading with his eyebrows."

"It's not good for your eyeBROWS!"

"Alex, listen to your father and go get your glasses. How many times do we have to tell you? You're going to ruin your eyebrows reading like that?"

My Halloween Costume

I saw this photo and I said "That's what I want to be!!!"

Wallpaper Choices for the Bathroom

 
 
 

Special Needs Congressman Gets in Trouble with the Law

Little Skye saw a picture of Congressman Ney on the
news. It was a bad picture. The angle of the camera
was looking up making his nostrils look larger and his
eyes puffier.

I'm watching this story unfold and I'm thinking "Good!
I'm glad that republican got busted! One down. How
many more to go?" or some such thoughts.

Then Skye says "He looks like a special needs kid."

I giggled and Skye said "It's not funny, Mommy. You
shouldn't laugh at special needs kids."

I had to apologize and tell Skye that Ney isn't a
special needs kid. It was just a bad photo of a
republican who got in trouble for doing something
naughty. But I am glad that he has such high hopes for
special needs kids, that they can win votes and be
elected as public officials.

Like the Warm Glow of the Fire?

 
 
 
 
What you see in these photos is a DIY disaster averted. I was feeling restless. Very, very restless. The premenstrual primal drive to redecorate my entire house, one unnecessary DIY home "improvement" after another until finally, finally, I was spared by a "lightbulb moment." Literally.

My restlessness was taking form in the way of wanting, NEEDING to rip off the faux brass fireplace frame with the chain curtain that's supposed to keep the sparks from shooting out and burning holes in my rug, because it was too shiney, the chain curtains don't hang right anymore, and the chain pattern is too busy for my eyes. Too busy and too dusty. I can't relax as long as the fireplace has all those problems that are interfering with the feng shui.

Everyone gets urges like this, right? You know when the chi isn't right. You're laying in bed trying to read your book but the light from the window and penetrating the side of your eye forces you to climb out from under the nice cozy sheets and pull down the shade or else you'll never be able to move past the same paragraph you've read over and over without any idea what you just read?

My girlfriend Barbara told me to just rearrange the furniture. But I couldn't listen. After I pulled off the brass frame I had to keep going, in the same OC fashion that Maggie digs rabidly for some scent buried deep in the lawn where I'm trying to get the grass to grow. Fortunately for my husband, I found some patio lights with which to decorate the birch logs, found the warming, comforting energy I was looking for, and abandoned all matter of ripping out the perfectly fine marble surround. 

Wet Dog

 
 
Wet Dog 
Debated on the Title for this one. It was a toss up between WET DOG or TWO WET BITCHES. But I don't want to attract the wrong audience googling around for porn so I went with Wet Dog.

Maggie loved her first bike ride in the backpack. She knew where I was going yesterday and barked like mad when I headed out on my bike with my friend Deb. We even went around Antrim Lake, mine and MAggie's special dog walk place. I had dog owner guilt but when I got home Maggie had totally forgiven me.

Maggie in the Backpack

 
 
Maggie in the backpack after her first bike ride. 

Swimming with JC

 
Alex, Skye and Jiminy Christmas! 

Met Another AssHat at the Dog Park

Warning! Warning! Another Asshat sighting at the dog park.

A few nights ago, there is this self-proclaimed Ceaser Milan (the dog whisperer) at the dog park. I am talking to my German friend while our dogs are getting it on. The faux dog whisperer leans into our conversation, points at my sweet little Maggie, who is innocently humping the mildly tolerant fixed Streudel, and says "That's aggressive behavior."

No it's not, bozo. Maggie gets humped by all the ball-less males and she thinks "This is what dogs do, right?" hump hump hump. She's seen Oprah enough times to know that the alpha female stands behind the guest and humps them while talking to the audience.

Streudel's German owner and I ignore him and continue our dialogue, which, while it stays on the subject of the pink medicine she put on Streudel's tic bite, also includes eye rolling met with a nod -- the silent handshake between the two of us that this guy is a know-it-all dog-whispering-poser and not to be given any more of our attention.

Okay. So that's the first time I meet the guy.

Second time I meet him he is bragging about his German Shepard. Sports dog. From Germany. Long line of blah blah blah. Awards, medals, pendants, ribbons, purple heart, blah blah blah.

Third time I meet him, again, "....Sports dog....from Germany...long line of blah blah blah.

The fourth time I meet him, once again the Shepard's credentials as a great athlete, war hero, first dog on the moon...blah, blah, blah. Okay he didn't mention a purple heart and or the moon but you get the idea. This dog tops all other dogs at the dog park and he's there to prove it to anyone who'll listen....or who gets stuck listening until they can find a way to lose him in the sea of dogs and dog owners.

I reply this fourth time of unsuccessfully dodging him with "She has an impressive curriculum vitae." Sometimes the only way to shut these kinds of guys up is to compliment them. In dog language I've just let him pee on my leg in order to get him to walk away and find another leg. Perhaps there's another bitch in the crowd humping a tolerant neutered male twice its size.

Except my strategy does't work. The words curriculum vitae pique his curiosity. He Instead of wandering off he asks me what I do for a profession.

I say "I'm a mom."

"But what do you do for a profession?"

"I'm my kid's mom."

"You sound like a professional. What do you do?"

"Parent. Why, did you think I was intelligent so how could I just be a Mom?" Women who are moms are only moms because they can't get a job?? I'm trying to figure out this guy's thinking, which is somewhat easy to do. Just dumb it down.

This is my way of peeing on his leg to get him to walk away and it proves to be successful.

Fifth time I meet him. Tonight. He's back for more leg-peeing. He asks me about The Profession. Again. I say "I know. My high IQ is just glaring at you, isn't it, and you simply must know what it is I DO besides raise childre." Then I fake laugh. Ha ha ha ha ha. Peeing on his other leg.

His wife says "Just because someone has a high IQ that doesn't mean anythin

People turn into dogs sometimes in my mind when I'm talking with them at the dog park. They usually turn into their own dog. But this time his wife began to look like Hazel, a gorgeous, red dog. Part bloodhound. Part yogi. When Hazel takes a shit she looks like a yoga master, balancing flawlessly with her back in child's pose, her tush elevated six inches from the ground, and eyes that could stay in tree pose for a week. She's so steady.

So this guy's wife looks like Hazel taking a crap. Or maybe the way I am looking at her is the way anyone would at a dog that's taking a crap, peripherally. Out of the edge of my eye I can see she is holding a pose. Perhaps holding a leash with a dog at the end of it.

And this guy....I can't tell you what dog he looks like. I not only imagine people turning into their dogs when I'm talking to them at the dog park. Sometimes I'm the one who shape shifts.

I had just finished watching New Waterford Girl in which one of the movie characters, a teenager from the Bronx, whose father, an imprisoned boxer, punches annoying guys in the face and they fall down. It's a great part of the movie. I love it. I am punching girl at this very moment. Mentally, my sleeves are rolled up.

I'm so close to winding up a swing at this guy with his next line of questions.

"Did you finish junior high?"

I answer him while mentally raising my fist shoulder height and bringing it back.

"Did you graduate from high school?"

I answer instead of, while he's on the ground wondering what happened, mounting him and pretending to be Hazel.

His wife steps in and, unaware that in my mind I've just flattened him, says "I can't take him any where."

This is his cue to stop being an ass but he can't help himself. I can't either. I spend the remainder of the evening reading a book at home on the couch. "Reading" a book. More like rehearsing what I'm going to say next time I see him, rehearsing what I could have said or done tonight while staring at the same paragraph for an hour.

His last questions before his wife nudges him away from me with another social cue that he is being a butthead are "Did you graduate from college?" and his next "What was your major?" and his next, "Did you get your masters?"

"no"

"Did you go to technical school?"

"No."

I answered instead of growling at him, clamping my jaw down on his muzzle and running while dragging him, or better, humping him from behind like Maggie. Maybe he's right. Maybe my dog is aggressive. Way to go, Maggie!

Gorilla Dream

I had a dream last night that "they" were trying to get me to adopt a gorilla from the zoo. It walked on its back two legs and was almost a man. I walked all around with him in public. I was afraid to be alone with him and to adopt him because, as I kept asking the zookeeper, "Aren't gorillas unsafe and known to physically harm the help?" They didn't deny it but they kept insisting that I should adopt this animal. That it would be good for both of us. That gorillas have changed.

I turned them down after a long period in the dream where I kept interacting with the gorilla. The interactions were strange. He moved slowly, robotically, and without much eye contact, if any. I couldn't see into him, to see if he would hurt me or love me. I wanted to measure that trigger inside of him to see how quick and fierce his anger was so I could know whether or not it would be safe to commit myself long-term to him or if he would simply overpower me within a moment's rage, with no built-in stops. I decided that he wasn't ready to come out of his cage and live among humans.

Then later I was at a workshop of some sort and I saw the gorilla. He was a man, who had previously been a gorilla but had moved on from that gig. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted him to talk to me. But he kept disappearing and our paths quit crossing and I moved on to the next dream.

In real life, I've been fascinated by the way in which fathers at the park communicate with their sons as they're teaching them about things. Two men stood out for me last night. One was very gruff. He made little eye-contact. He talked in short, monosyllobic words to his son and to the other boys on the t-ball team who he was coaching at home plate. If they were standing too close to the plate he'd say, "back up." He didn't tell them why or how far. Just "back up". He'd ask them to take a practice hit. "Let's see your swing" he'd say, nodding to the T that had no ball on it. They'd swing. He'd say "good" or "okay". Then he'd put a ball on the T and nod for them to hit it.

He looked like he had a bad temper and yelled a lot off camera. But I liked him. I liked that he was teaching the boys, not about baseball but about "true grit" masculinity.

After the game, I noticed a very gentle-looking man. What struck me was how high his voice was when he looked behind him and called for his son to follow him. He had a very feminine quality not just to his voice but his face and posture were both very soft and gentle. Although his son looked like his father, he did not possess the same feminine strengths. The boy followed his father's footsteps, several paces back, encumbered by some inner resentment, some inner struggle.

science projects

 
 
 
  

Maggie's Spiderman Underwear

 

I know it seems like animal cruelty but I'm telling you, when I walked up to Maggie and told her I had Spiderman underwear, I shit you not, she jumped up and danced in excitement then rolled onto her back and put her feet up in the air, just like a toddler used to the routine, so I could easily slip them over her back legs.

As I'm pulling them up on her and adjusting the waistband I said "When I was your age, Maggie, I loved
Spiderman too."

My life hasn't been the same since the car accident

Can you tell by the photo whose fault it was? I can't believe I'm STILL on the phone with the insurance company arguing that it wasn't mine.

Do I love him or what!?

S'more Field Trip

 
One of the exhibits at the Conservatory is an outdoor train exhibit. Nice little scenes with train tracks running through them. Inidians, old fashioned main street, old mill, boys on a dock fishing with their dads. At the far corner of the exhibit a new installation was being set up. I watched them on the sidelines for a while when suddenly I looked down into the box in front of me and saw some fake people and sea life models. I held the camera over the box and pressed the button with no idea how the shot would turn out.
 
 
  

Economics According to my Kindergartner

Little Skye said "Everything we buy in America is made in China."

I said "Yea, it's not good for our economy but so many companies have sent the work overseas because the work
is cheaper."

Skye said "Well that's good then."

I said "No because Americans need the money."

He said "No. The storekeepers get the money when we buy the things made in China."

I said "But it puts American workers out of a job."

He said "It's okay. They need to rest."

I said "But they need to work because they need money to buy their family things."

He said "Yea but they can let the Chinese do the work and they can relax."

Quote Genius

Quote Genius