New Year's Resolutions (inspired by restaurant widow)

Ok so this is my first stab at making New Year’s resolutions.
The year is starting off with a change so why not continue the momentum.

Have a garage sale – sell all the old stuff that I will replace with new WEDDING stuff

Take more (better) pictures – I love to take pictures and want to get back to it. I also need to be better at printing them out and sharing them with people.

Write more – Writing is something I enjoy. I’ve always had this thought in the back of my mind that one day I would write a book of my own misadventures (there are sooo many). Usually, I get intimidated at the daunting task, where to start and where to find the time (see next resolution). Plus, I’m sure you’ve noticed, my grammar is lacking!

Make time for the good things in life. I spend too many hours of my day at work or fretting over it. My life is going to pass me by if I’m not careful.

Be a good wife – Note to Fiancé, this does NOT mean I will be a domestic goddess—you know me better than that. This means I want to be supportive of you, let you know how much I love you, TRY to be patient, and communicate clearly.

Spend time fixing up the house – My to-do list includes, staining the deck, repainting, and in general fixing all the broken shit.

Ok so all of these things seem daunting now but maybe putting them in writing will help them come to fruition.

work

OK so I told myself from the beginning that I wasn’t going to blog about my job. I didn’t want there to be a chance I said something I shouldn’t, bitched too much about someone, or ruined my chances of ever becoming a SERIOUS professional. Please keep your laughter to a minimum.

One of the things I’ve seen in my job, is the power of retouching photographs. While I do not posses this talent, I have seen the wonders it does to pictures. So much so that when we had bio pictures taken today – I requested they use the one from last year that Mo retouched (thanks Mo!). But no – we have the power but are not allowed to use it for good – boo.

This week for example, we were working on releasing a file with a picture of a woman in athletic wear. In retouching, her boobs were enhanced by a good two cup sizes. She was hot before but after that, she looked plastic – Maybe the look they go for in LA.
Luckily, someone came to their senses and deflated them slightly.

Now when I see pictures of myself I’m not mad at how I look (not totally), just mad I don’t have the retouching skills of some of my peers!

Pavlov

A Sammy story.

Every night I feed Sammy dinner and I make her lie down and wait patiently while I fill her bowl. She has to stay there until I say go. Sometimes when I'm feeling torturious, I make her think I forgot and go about other things. She is a very good girl and always stays in place as I move around the basement. She must be thinking if I move, I might not get ANY food.

Well last night I was going about the routine (not the torturous part) and turned to tell her to go. In the two seconds, from her lying down, to me filling her bowl, she had started salivating so much that drool was pouring from her jowels!

It was like someone had turned on a faucet. IF ONLY I HAD MY CAMERA!

I'll try and recreate it to capture a picture. I really don't torture her often, I promise.

Haunted

This past weekend, I spend a good amount of time in the car – wearing tread on Interstate 71. I notice when I’m in the car by myself, I reflect a lot. The radio is on, but after about 15 minutes I don’t really hear it anymore. I get lost in my own thoughts.

Sometimes on these trips, I’m haunted by a car accident from that very stretch of highway. When the thoughts occur, instead of pushing them aside, I usually sink in to the memories.

The particular memory I was recalling was being at Meg’s house with Mom and Dad the day after the accident. I was telling her about the accident. I remember feeling very withdrawn. I recounted the story with very little emotion.

As I was telling her the series of events, tears were streaming down her face. I don’t know if she was crying because of what happened or because she was worried about me. The thing that struck me about this memory was that it was completely new to me. Don’t get me wrong, I remember being there and telling her about it— but the visual of her standing there with tears silently streaming down her face was so new.

You’d think that being in the car on 71 would most often trigger these thoughts, but that isn’t the case. Sometimes I think about it in the car, but sometimes it can be as unrelated as discussing weekend events with someone. At those moments brush the memory aside—I don’t have the energy to dig it up.

When I’m in my car, by myself with nothing but my thoughts. That’s when I spend time with them. I feel like I need to remember everything, that I owe it to the two people that died that day.

And the war wages on....

I won the first battle - deciding to keep Sammy in the basement to keep her off the couch. The decision was reinforced because I recently got new pillows for the couch.

She won the second battle hands down with guerrilla warfare. Fiance came home to find diarrhea all over the basement floor AND for good measure, she tore up one of the old couch pillows as if to say "Not only will I have my vengeance but I will spread the feathers of the dead pillow in poop to show my power".

While the war wages on, I am confident that opposable thumbs and brain power will win over disgust and brut strength. In the meantime, I will spend the weekend trying to rebuild my fortress with a steam cleaner!

The Battle

For the past couple weeks, Fiance and I have been facing a loosing battle with Sammy. It began when we decided to give her free reign of the house, while we were at work. She can finally “hold it” long enough and doesn’t destroy anything.

The reason I always resisted letting her out all day – besides the ‘accidents’ was the fear she would make herself comfortable, be it on the couch, chair or our bed.
I grew up in a household with dogs but they were never allowed on the furniture, so I still subscribe to that mentality. Sammy does not.

We never actually catch her on the couch, which makes it almost impossible to teach her its not allowed. When we are home, she doesn’t even act as if its an option. But, I suspect, when she hears the key in the door, she jumps down from the couch and makes her way to greet us.

After a couple days of noticing a round imprint in the couch, I would look closer and see the tell-tale evidence of her fur in a nice snuggly circle.

So my battle began –
I started by pushing the coffee table up to the couch. Didn’t stop her.

I rolled all the cushions forward. She lied on top of them.

I piled boxes and books on the couch – thinks that would not be comfortable to lie on. She nudged them aside and squeezed in between everything.

I put foil on the couch – she pulled it off.

What I can’t figure out is why my parents never seemed to have this problem with their dogs.

Today, pending guest this weekend, I gave up. She is back in the basement all day with the door shut, pending a better solution.

Halloween Weekend

Ok. so I didn't have time to pull together a costume for work but Biscuit had a costume party on Saturday - FIance and I had to come up with something. This is what we did....


Fiance is on the left- he looks short but thats just because my costume was 9 feet tall.

I am on the right - what is it? It was funny. Fiance and I started putting things together and we couldn't stop laughing so this is where we ended up.

Happy Halloween

I love Halloween. I will never grow out of wanting to dress up.

Every year I love putting time and effort into a great costume. We have a Halloween contest every year at my job. It is always fun to show up to work to see what people have done.

This year my favorite was Richard Simmons - he came running into the office, jazz hands fluttering, squealing about how excited he is.

We also had someone dressed up as a functional box of wine, a dead concept (advertising humor), ugly Betty, a pirate, an evil bunny, and a scarecrow.

I did not have time to pull together a costume this year. It's go big or go home for me. I wouldn't settle for a sheet over my head. So instead I'll reminisce about the many costumes from years past - starting in college
Chiquita banana woman
Devil in a blue dress
Dorothy from wizard of oz
Cleopatra
Pink fuzzy dice (this was a costume with Fiance)
Fiance was Fudge'ums from the domino's commercial and I was a domino's delivery person.
Martin
Fiance and I were Bank robbers - masks, wigs and trench coats.

Last year's costume took the cake - Mo and I were bobble heads of ourselves. They actually bobbled too.



Happy Haunting.

New favorite pics

Cold Saturday morning trying to cuddle with a wiggle-worm of a dog.

Side of the bed

So last night Fiance decided to move the furniture around in the bedroom - Every once in a while, he does this. I guess it gets too boring for him, so he wants to change things up.

Anyways, I heard him shuffling furniture around and knew what was going on. When it was time to go to bed, I went to check it out. he had taken all the furniture and placed it along two walls. You walk into the bedroom and every piece of furniture is either at the south wall or east wall. It left the room feeling like those two walls have some black hole sucking all the furniture to one side and if you stand there long enough, you two will succumb to the gravity effect.

The real problem was with the bed - He thinks that he should always sleep on the side of the bed that is closest to the door. He thinks he is protecting me, which is hilarious because he wouldn't wake up if a freight train came through the room.

He switched the bed to the opposite wall, which means, my side of the bed is now closest to the door. He now defines this as his side of the bed. I argue that my side of the bed is my side of the bed no matter where it is placed (even in the suction of the black hole). I always lose this argument - He's protecting me remember.

SO - long story short, I didn't sleep at all last night. I need my SIDE of the bed. Seriously, this won't cut it. I could deal with the crazy tilt situation of the furniture, but don't mess with my side of the bed.

The dress

So momma T brought up my wedding dress this weekend - Thanks MOM!

i was really excited to get it and try it on again. I wanted to dance around, feeling pretty singing the song from Sleeping Beauty!

Instead, the whole thing was rather anti-climatic. It took FOREVER to get it on. I was sweating the whole time, worried my dress will smell like BO. I don't do very well standing - guess its good practice.

It was also too big. I knew it would be too big, but I guess what I really liked about the dress is that it sucked me in so tight, I looked skinny - A dress too big won't do that for you.

The funniest part was when biscuit had me stand on an upside-down basked for the pedestal affect. It collapsed under my weight and I almost bit it.

Not to worry, I still really like the dress. I just remember it being much more fabulous.

I'm really getting tired of the wedding stuff, glad we opted for a short engagement.

Getting Bigger?

Ok so before I get into my topic for the week, I’m going to give you my standard “fat comment to follow” disclosure.

I do not think I’m fat. When speaking of frustrations of weight gain, I am referencing a once smaller self – the one that existed when ephedra was legal, when I lived on natural light and trekked daily the hills of Athens. I do not think I’m fat but I am gaining weight and I am getting ready to bitch about it.

Today, I sat down and felt something on my lap. It felt like it was under my comfortable, loose dress. It almost felt like part of my own body resting with all it’s weight and glory right there on the top of my legs. What was it????? It was my stomach! My roll has gotten so big and lazy that it can’t even support itself – Oh I’m so hot.

I compare this realization to the women who don’t have boobs. Once they get pregnant, and the chest grows, they discover the boob pit. The boob is now so heavy it rests on the chest below, creating a nice place for sweat to gather.

So now I have a big chunk of fat resting on my legs. I am too lazy to even hold it up with my abdominal muscles – great, Sitting at a desk ALL DAY is really paying off.

I think I have to name this new belly pouch that is too lazy to hold itself up and break down any fat. Any suggestions, cause I think it’s going to be here for a while.

Where are you!?

In my family we joke about how hard it can be to get ahold of one another. Below is a funny exchange between my mom and little biscuit.

Conversation between momma T and biscuit:

Friday afternoon:
Biscuit: Mom can I call you back. I’m at the bank.

Momma T: Sure thing baby girl.

Biscuit: ok love you, bye.

Momma T: Loveyoubye

Saturday morning voicemail from Momma T
Momma T: Biscuit, are you still at the bank? Call me back

Sunday voicemail from Momma T
Momma T: Are you STILL at the bank? I hope you’re not being held hostage! Call me back

Call on Monday from Biscuit to Momma T
Biscuit: Hi mom, I JUST got done at the bank.

Smelly

So I was reading my friend's blog and it inspired me. I was thinking about those distinct smells that can’t be mistaken for anything else. Below are some I could think of off the top of my head.

Nostalgic smells

When someone first lights a cigarette and all that burns is the paper – very different and distinct smell from the cigarette itself – I LOVE THAT SMELL

Franklin – I can’t really define it but he just smells like home. I love to bury my face in him and take a big whiff

Wet Dog – Growing up with dogs, it’s not necessarily a good smell but I know it so distinctly

Downey – My first boyfriend used to wash his clothes in way too much Downey. Now I smell it and am convinced he’s in the vicinity.

Horrible smells
Burning hair – If you’ve smelled it you know it.

Lighting the wrong end of a cigarette – If you’ve ever been drunk and blindly grabbed a cigarette, or if you’re a girl and had that “lucky cigarette” in your pack and grabbed that one when its dark – you know that smell and it doesn’t go away!

Campfire – This can be good and bad, right now it’s the smell of fall but spend all night next to the fire and you can’t get the smell out of your hair – its enough to make me sick.

Too much cologne/perfume – Like I said, I have a strong sense of smell – Other people must not have the same sensitivities because they POUR on the floral/masculine liquid. Those people give me headaches

Stale ashtrays – I had a roommate in college that asked in coke cans all over our dorm room and didn’t clean them up. It was such a stale, stank, sent.

Burnt popcorn – reminds me of the assassination attempt – see previous post

Fabreeze – anyone that thinks this stuff eliminates odors is just WRONG. This smell makes me feel dirty. Why would you spray it instead of actually cleaning! Try and cover up cigarette smoke with it and you get an entirely new, more nasty smell.

The Dance

Fiancé and I are never out of dog food and cat food at the same time. It would be so convenient if we could just buy them both at the same time. We’ve tried to always buy both at the same time no matter if we are out or not, but always end up with a TON of cat food. This means sometimes Sammy just eats cat food until we have time to go to the store. I’m such a good mom, I know.

Right now, we have a dog-food-sized bag of cat food. Fiancé bought the cheap kind. The cheap kind resulted in Frankie’s upset stomach and some nasty dingle berries. So I had to go out and get the good, healthy food in the orange bag.



I brought the bag home and was immediately the center of attention. I set the bag down in the kitchen and let the dance begin.

It doesn’t matter if its dog food or cat food, both kids think it is their rightful property. I call it a dance because each movement is so subtle that if you didn’t know them, you might not get what is going on.

The can will rub on the bag in gratitude, the dog then nonchalantly walks up to the bag – her presence pushes the cat to another corner of the room. The whole time the bag of food is in sight, Sammy’s eyes are on the cat. If Franklin is able to get close to the bag – no sudden move is made, Sammy simply gets up and positions herself in between the food and the cat – Size is her advantage.

So it seems that Franklin is the looser here, but he is no dummy. He is patient and eventually Sammy has to go outside. Last night while Sammy was doing her business. I hear a ripping noise from the kitchen. I shit you not, that the cat was ripping the bag of food open with his teeth. He would take one giant bite and pull.

Sammy comes in, sees the damage the cat has done, and refuses to leave sight of the food. We always make her come to bed and she begrudgingly joins us.

Last night she must have been tormented by the thought of the cat eating all the food, so she snuck downstairs and SLEPT next to that bag of food.

OK enough tormenting the animals – I put the food away.

DIET COKE - blech

I hate Diet Coke. Not only do I not like the taste, but it tricks me into thinking it’s a suitable choice.



Let me paint a picture – I’m grabbing lunch, lets say at Subway. “Do you want to add chips and a drink,” the lady at the register asks.
Sure do, so she hands me a cup and my sandwich. I head over to the fountain drink station and analyze my choices: Coke – so good but not worth the calories, Sprite – no caffeine, forget it, Mountain Dew - presents the same problem as Coke and doesn’t taste as good, Ice Tea or some crazy minute maid lemonade – too much sugar and not really good. The last choice DIET COKE. Well, it does have caffeine and zero calories, it will do. I don’t want to stand there like an idiot for an hour so I choose it out of pressure too.

I get back to my cube and begin eating my sandwich and sipping on the DIET COKE – YUCK. I’ve been tricked again. Not only do I hate the taste –I’m mad that I was tricked into thinking it would be an ok supplement to my lunch.

This scenario repeats itself whenever a soda choice is to be made. Yes, you may think I would learn my lesson, but it’s that tricky, tricky soda! Not to mention all the people that love it. They order it with excitement so I think, “maybe I don’t really hate it that much,” but I DO!

DIET COKE you make me mad!

Puppy's are cute .... until they get sick.

I know, some of my earlier posts show great pictures of my cute Sammy. To get the real picture, I probably need to upload a video. I'll work on capturing one that shows her true spirit.

To all of you dog owners out there - I know you can relate. To all the non dog owners, you are smart and probably live in clean house. This story may disgust you, sorry. Most importantly, to all the potential dog owners. The people that love puppies and their soft fur, slobbery kisses and spunk - WARNING TO FOLLOW.

She may look cute but she can be NASTY.



Sammy went through a phase where she caught every stomach virus imaginable. It was bad. Fiance and I would come home, run to her kennel with our fingers crossed - please say she was able to hold it! To often we were dissappointed. You couldn't help but feel horrible for her. She didn't want to be in her own filth, she couldn't help it. We took her to the vet so many times my wallet was in more pain than she was.

It was getting to the point where we couldn't keep up with the shit (literally). I was so stressed at work (what else is new) and Fiance was sick too. I came home to find him moaning on the couch. When I went to check on the dog there was runny brown shit all over the basement carpet, the kennel AND the wall behind the kennel. I am not faint of heart but the shear mass of it made me want to cry.

Muttering under my breath at my luck to have both a sick boyfriend and pet, I filled a bucket with soapy water and heading to my poop prison.

It was two steps down the stairs before my feet came out from under me.....The soapy water went vertical and I tumbled down the stairs. Standing bruised and battered at the bottom of the stairs examining the diahreha covered carpet, I sobbed.

I sobbed as I scrubbed each section of the floor. WHY DID I WANT A DOG? WHY, WHY, WHY.

The sickly fiance wobbled to the top of the basement steps to check on me. He started gaging from the smell and his own virus - Tear stained I screamed at him "GO AWAY, I can not handle cleaning up your vomit on top of this!"

I can laugh at it now but potential dog owners - Don't let those puppy dog eyes fool you!

I don’t like IKE

Ok so I’m going on the sixth day without power at home. I’m getting frustrated but there is NOTHING I can do about it and there isn’t anyone to blame.

I know the AEP crews are working day and night. I am very thankful for their hard work. Most of all, I’m thankful for the mild weather. The days are warm and the nights are cool.

It just so happens, prior to the storm weekend, I was out of town several weekends in a row. So how does that pertain? Well, I hadn’t cleaned the house or done laundry for over a month. That means no underwear and tumbleweeds of animal hair.

Sunday, I was right in the midst of cleaning and doing laundry when Ike started knocking. He wanted my attention so badly; he threw a tree on my house and took my electricity ransom. OK, I get it—you are a powerful storm. I’ll give you the respect you are looking for and walk around the neighborhood checking out the damage.

So that’s how my house was left—with a tree on it, laundry in the washing machine, and cleaning supplies all over the house. I didn’t think this was that big a deal, a couple days and I could resume.

Monday was an adventure – Work had power, so I had to get there like all is normal. It gave me an opportunity to check out the news, and see how widespread the damage was. It really WAS widespread.

Fiancé didn’t have power at work but they made him come in to FILE papers – are you kidding me? On the way home, get ice and find batteries for flashlights. At home, get out the propane lantern, grill out any food that will spoil, play scrabble by candlelight.

Tuesday was about ingenuity – I exercise near work, so luckily there was power. I got up early to workout; my reward was power. I got to use a hairdryer and enough light to put makeup on. At work – power up the laptop that can run about 1.5 hours of DVDs for entertainment.

On the way home—discovering what restaurants were open for food. If they were open, it was due to generators.

Fiancé tried hooking up a converter to the car for some power. When that didn’t work, he ran an extension cord across the street to the neighbor that has a generator, classy. Didn’t really work though, every time a car ran over it, it came unplugged.

Wednesday my frustration was mounting. This was the day that I checked the news at work to read AEP projected our power would be restored on Saturday. This meant no more hurrying home with hope that a light switch would work.

This was also the day I showed up to work and asked if everyone else’s power had been restored – it had. I trudged home and fished out all the clothes from the washing machine—Ike stopped it in the middle of the rinse cycle. It looked like cotton soup.

By Thursday, Fiancé and I had been at each other’s throats. He would tell you it was all me; but I’m too mad at him to take responsibility. Luckily on Thursday I had dinner with the girls. Are you reading between the lines here that EVERYPLACE in the city has power except me. Well it was good to get out and not be sitting in the dark. I came home and argued some more with the Fiancé—the adventure is over.

It’s Friday, and I’m tired of this. I need clean clothes. I’d like to cook. I need to clean out the rotten refrigerator. The dishwasher is starting to smell. The clothes from he strained cotton soup are getting moldy.

I have an overwhelming pessimistic feeling that power will come on Saturday. Which means my weekend will be obligated to cleaning the reminents of Hurricane Ike INSIDE my house.

Where's my house?

I think it's under this tree!

Momentary Love Affairs

CORN ON THE COB

Right now, right in the peak of the corn season, I could eat corn on the cob for every meal—Slathered in olive oil and sea salt after boiling on the stove or charred black from the grill and rolled in margarine specked with herbs.

The fresh corn right now is available in such abundace, I am expecting my overindulgence to last me through the winter. Fiance tells me that Native American’s had problems with their diet because they ate too much maize (I don’t really hear him over my excitement for my next indulgence). Seriously though, besides the tons of butter and salt I slather on each ear, how bad can it be.

I prepare my corn with a meticulous routine. First the butter or olive oil – whichever I fancy that day, it is drizzled or spread on with one hand while the other hand rolls the ear for even distribution.
Second the same process is used for the salt, one hand spins the ear while the other hand sprinkles the salt.

Each bite releases the tiny kernels into my mouth. Like a typewriter my teeth chomp down the ear. Once the kernels are released into my mouth, more joy. They are plump and burst in my mouth.

How sad I am when the ear lays naked on my plate. I am tempted to pick it up and suck the remaining salt and butter off – Looking at Fiance for approval, he laughs and shakes his head – OK I suck on what’s left of the ear - The sweet and salty joy

I even love the corn fiber that gets stuck in my teeth. For hours I pick it out and remember the satisfaction received from that Ohio Sweet Corn.

I usually end up some time in winter buying corn on the cob and being deeply disappointed in the quality because it isn’t the same just picked yesterday local product I’m used to. That is how my love affair will end until I’m reunited next year.

Assassination attempt

Orville Redenbacher tried to kill me today - assassination via combustible popcorn.

I only put it in for ONE minute. Popcorn man, you are on my list.

The official end to summer

So Fiance and I ran ourselves ragged this weekend trying to cram in every summer activity before its too late—before the gray ceiling collapses on us, forcing hibernation.

Before I get all gloom and doom about winter – I’ll highlight the summer fun from the weekend. Side note: I wonder if a profession in marketing has dulled my writing skills—paragraphs whittled down to bulleted lists and highlights.

OSU Buckeye Game – fun but HOT. Smooshed in between big sweaty guys, the heat beat down and stole all the moisture from my body. The bucks won in a landslide while I had to take frequent water breaks.

Fiance’s nephew’s (soon to be my nephew) third birthday party in the park – good thing we didn’t tailgate at the OSU game earlier in the day. Don’t want to be THAT aunt and show up drunk at the kid’s b-day party. It was a pretty afternoon and a nice park.

Rinehart Family Fun Day – Every year Fiance’s family goes to a hunting and fishing club to spend the day outside. It’s great outdoor adventure with camping, fishing, swimming and eating. Sammy got to come and earned her new name – Fishdog. She is still limping from playing too hard. Pictures below of a truly happy and DIRTY fishdog.



While camping at Rinehart Family Fun Day, fiancé cracked me up by getting drunk and scared sleeping in the tent. He made me sleep with a tomahawk beside me. Once he came to bed, he kept whispering “wait........ shhhhh, do you hear that” all night long. It was funny until the alarm at the nearby prison went off at four in the morning. I look over and Fiance is clutching the tomahawk at his chest with his big round eyes wide open. Ok, at that point I got a little scared too.

It made for good laughs the next day. Especially because Fiance is NOT the type to be scared - he kept coming to check on me in the tent to make sure I was still sleeping safe and sound - uncomfortable and passed out was more like it.

AHHHH SUMMER. The only way I can let you go is to submit myself to the craziness that is FOOTBALL SEASON.

Look for these fun and exciting future posts:
Franklin and spray bottle insanity
new momentary love affairs
fantasy football
and much more
(yep, marketing has corrupt my writing skills)

My cup overfloweth

Sometime, I'm struck by how lucky I am. This morning was one of those mornings.

I have all the necessities in life - Love, laughter, security, support and my health.

I hope to always honor those in my life that bring me happiness.

The people have spoken-all five of them

So the votes are in and 60 percent of you want to hear about wedding planning. I’m curious about the identities of these three people, because day-to-day, I talk way too much about the wedding.

But here goes – The plans are coming together. We progress through the multitude of lists that I produce. We cross off one item at a time, when we aren’t inturrepted by life. By life I mean, our jobs, broken cars (shi shi), fantasy football (for both of us), Monker’s wedding (big sister), and birthdays (one of us is turning the big 3 0 and its not ME).

I am a big list-maker, always afraid I’ll forget something important. At Monker’s wedding I’ll probably be taking notes. She is a great hostess. Without a doubt she will have thought of things that I never would havel.

The next things on the list are:
Registering – Tried to do this once but ended up in a fight, making a scene at Macy’s.
Finding a DJ – Fiance is working to find a band but I don’t think we have the budget.
Honeymoon Plans – Tickets are purchased, now need agenda and hotels. Costa Rica here we come.
Guest list – have to hear from the parents who they want to invite. This was one of the hardest parts. We want to invite everyone we know but it all comes down to MONEY.
Invitations – have to go to the paper store to find the least expensive way to produce
Wine/Beer – Monker’s is helping us secure the drinks so after she gets back from Spain, we’ll sit down to figure out what to order.
Bakery – We aren’t into the whole cake thing. Too practical to spend that much money on something that looks good and we shove in each other’s face. BUT I have a fierce sweet tooth so we’ll serve sheet cake.
The list goes on and on but those are the next steps to get done.

My biggest stress about all of this is that I’m going to forget something very important. Case and point is the dream I had last night. In the dream, I was going to get ready for the wedding and I had forgotten to get my dress altered. We drove around frantically looking for a seamstress that could fix it in under a couple hours (yeah right). No one could believe I was that stupid – forgetting something like that. Not to mention the dress size I ordered is huge because my waist is so big (this is true and part of the dream).

Its a lot of pressure planning a party this big. Sometimes I go on tirades about how much things cost but at the end of the day I am so excited to be married.

Oh by the way, Fiance said he is most exciting about running around shouting “where in the hell is my wife”.

Republican Roots

So I knew my parents were working on a vegetable garden this year, but I was surprised by the communal experience they had created.

My parents, along with their two neighbors, sectioned off a plot of land where all the property lines come together.



By the time I saw the garden, it was thriving. My initial thought was “they’ve become communal hippies."
That is until they started showing off the plants – That one’s Larry’s, oh and those aren’t our tomatoes, ours are over here.



Maybe not communal but sustainable – Go Mom and Dad.

So Proud

The other day I pulled into the driveway and something in the tree caught my eye. I squinted, trying to figure out if it was one of Sammy's balls or toys stuck in the tree. Suddenly I realized what I was seeing - PEACHES. I exhaled in pride, got out of my car, and ran to inspect.



All summer long, our baby Burt was working hard to produce his first batch of produce. We overlooked the fruit all summer until they were bright orange and bursting from the tree. They looked so cozy, nestled in the green leaves. I almost didn't want to pick them. But I'm glad we did.


Right away we picked the peaches so the critters didn't get them. Burt did good. The peaches were soft and fuzzy, a beautiful color, and sticky sweat. They were the kind of peaches you have to bend forward when taking a bite so the nectar doesn't get all over your clothes. It still runs down your fingers and your chin, but that makes it all the better.

So proud.

Delight in the rain

We had one of those summer pop up storms last night. The kind where it is pouring at my office but not a drop of rain fell on my brown, neglected, dehydrated lawn.

I ran to my car, getting soaked on the way. After spending a half an hour to get less than a mile, I reached the highway. This was my view.



The rainbow put a smile on my face. It helped me forget the rain and traffic. Mind you, the other drivers were probably PISSED that I slowed down to stick my camera out the window. Instead, I'm hoping they took the opportunity as I was to take some delight in the rain.

Sunday Fun-day at the fair (LONG POST)

Sunday was a good day —

After a day of sunning ourselves and drinking wine – it was time for me to take a nap. I couldn’t go to the fair without replenishing my energy. Biscuit entertained herself with the kids while I “rested my eyes”.

After a couple hours, we were ready to go. A quick stop at Kroger to buy our tickets and we were on our way to the OHIO STATE FAIR.


We spend quite a bit of time wondering around. We are easily entertained.


By the time we were ready for food – I went straight for the corn on the cob. At the same stand Biscuit got her TURKEY LEG. We sat down in the shade to scarf down the food.


The corn didn’t last long – I devoured it. Biscuit was still working on the turkey leg so i offered to help.

Here is us eating the Turkey leg – It was surprisingly really good! It was smoked, messy, sticky, salty and fun to eat (Can’t you tell from the pic). We couldn’t finish it all but we made a pretty significant dent in that hunk o meat.


We spent all evening at the fair, a long night to run through the play by play. Instead, here are the hits and misses.

Misses –
Fried mac n’ cheese – too salty and dry and made of the kraft blue box variety. I was sucked into the hype, no good. You’re better off getting cheesy tots from Burger King.

Playing the game – why in the world did we waste $5 dollars trying to throw a ball in a basket. Oh well.

Fried Cheese on a stick – an annual favorite for me, this year it wasn’t hot so it didn’t have the right texture.

Hits
The turkey leg – I gotta be honest, I didn’t have high hopes for this carnivorous feast but it was great.

THE RIDES – Biscuit and I go straight for the rides that flip you all around and upside-down.
The first was one in which you sit in a metal cage (seriously) and the cage flips independently of the ride which also goes in a giant circle. The guy was sweet on the two of us and gave the cage a good spin before the ride took off. I had to take a break after that one.

The second one was the story of the night. This one was similar to the last in which they put you in a cage and it’s flipped and twisted all around. This cage however, was padded.


They were letting people off the ride and reloading it when Biscuit said, “Did someone get sick? I see something dripping.” Sure enough, they open the cage and an embarrassed girl gets out and says, “I got sick, sorry”. I didn’t feel so bad for her but for the guy stuck in there with her and her puke!

This means they had to get everyone off and clean the ride. I asked Biscuit if she wanted to wait. Her response “Hell Yeah, someone got sick on this ride, we HAVE to ride it”. Good point I thought, and we waited.

We waited patiently as they clean the number 5 cage – both glad that they do actually clean them.

FINALLY after 20 minutes of waiting, we go on the ride. This padded cage didn’t leave much room for movement. The cage was hoisted up to the top of the ride and everything began to shutter and shake. Biscuit – “I don’t think this is a good idea!” About that moment it felt as if we were being shot gunned out of a cannon.

She was screaming and I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t breath. To make things even more interesting, I forgot I had change in my pocket. I heard the clink of the coins banging around as we were flung around. Then I hear “OWE, that hit my head!!!” WHERE IS THIS CHANGE COMING FROM?” I was laughing so hard; I couldn’t get a breath to tell her it’s from my pocket. The change acted like bullets rebound on the surfaces, just added to the fun. I am still laughing about this now as I type it.

More hits -
The randomness of it all – Hot tubs to ADHD testing.

The conversation
Biscuit: “We should get a booth at the fair next year and deep fry something”
Me: “What would we deep fry?”
Biscuit: “I don’t know, what haven’t they deep fried yet?”
Me: “hmmmmm, I don’t know”
Long pause while we debate this important thought.
Me: “I KNOW, ice cream”
Biscuit: “they CAN”T deep fry ice cream!” It’s a liquid”
Me: “I bet they could if they got it cold enough”
Biscuit: “THERE IS NO WAY”
Me “Ok but I think Deep Fried Ice Cream Sandwiches would be the BOMB – with a graham cracker crust”
Biscuit: “You could probably deep fry ice cream sandwiches because they aren’t really ice cream, they are made of something weird”
Me: “whatever, that is what we should deep fry”

It was a great trip to the fair - I can't wait for next year.


PS – Voicemail message from Biscuit this morning– it IS possible to deep fry ice cream!

The Fair

Its that time of year - The Ohio State Fair is here.

Little Biscuit and I have an ongoing tradition—Every year we go to the State Fair and we LOVE IT.

In the heat of summer, the fair goes on for two weeks. What better time than in the sweltering heat. It’s a dirty, stinky event, so why not be sweaty too.



There is something so paradoxical about the fair taking place in the middle of our metropolis. Right off the major highway, are some great events that we don’t typically get to witness in the city. There are livestock like goats, chickens, sheep and swine.
There are agricultural contests—who can grow the largest produce? And there are arts and crafts of course!

The people watching is AWESOME. Never since, have I witnessed a more happy union urban and rural in the same place. From hip-hop music to country concerts – two things so polar opposite right HERE.

The food – Ok who doesn’t love fried food. The fair is the home of fried food. Biscuit and I make ourselves sick on fair food – We look forward to this day of gluttony. Fried cheese is a must. French fries are good too. But don’t forget about the corn. Right before they give you the fresh roasted ear, they dip it in a VAT of butter. You grab hold and let the butter run down your arm while wondering if one day at the fair can give you a heart attack.

Last year, we looked everywhere for the NEW fair food “fried coke” but to no avail. I did have a fried snickers and was unimpressed.

This year Biscuit has one objective. “I am going to get a turkey leg” she stated. She is referring to the giant drumsticks like they have at those renaissance events. Every year we gape at the big men that walk around gnawing on a giant meat leg. This year, she is going to see what all the fuss is about – Don’t worry; I’ll get a picture.

And the one last reason we LOVE the fair—the rides. No, they aren’t as high or fast as amusement parks but they are scarier. These rides are so portable and downright unstable that there is a good chance you might die. We laugh hysterically, unsure which will happen first, vomit all over each other or be thrown from ride that is structurally unsound. It is a blast.

While others snub their nose at this annual event, I can’t help but be drawn back to see if it all is really as strange as I remember.

Look for pictures and a recap to follow next week, our third annual visit. Cross your fingers that Biscuit finds a turkey leg.

Characters

Someone recently commented about how I addressed the Fiancé as such in my last blog post. It was older sister, who now wants a fun name. I think you’d agree “older sister” isn’t unique or flattering. In the spirit of names, I decided to provide a key of who’s who for future blog posts.

The Big Man – Older sister’s Fiancé, soon to be husband. The big man is a great chef and responsible for some of the greatest meals I’ve ever consumed.

Little Sister – Biscuit, this is not a new name for her. Not sure where it came from but it stuck.

Nick Nick – Little Sisters boyfriend. Sorry we don’t have a more interesting name but its fun to say. Try it.

Boyfriend/Fiancé and soon too be Husband – Easy enough to figure this one out. Love of my life, best friend, and person that can make me angrier than anyone (yes, even you mom).

Momma T – My crazy but perpetually youthful mother. Always on the run and only likes to talk on her cell phone in the car. If she tells you she’ll call you back when she gets home, don’t believe her.

Padre – Not sure when dad was translated to Spanish. He is the once strict disciplinarian turned softy (that’s what happens with three girls).

The kids – Franklin the cat and Sammy the dog – see appropriate posts for detailed descriptions

Now to the Older Sister – Here lies my problem with a name for older sister, all of the following apply to one side of her personality or another –
Monkers – pet name given by the big man
50s Diva – I’m telling you she live in the 50s in a previous life
Fitness Fanatic – running, swimming, hiking, biking, you name it she’s going to conquer it.
Future caretaker of the sick – scientist in the making
Cincinnati Sister – I told her that would be her name and she suggested it was uninspired.

What do you think?

A Monday Night

We were bored. This made us laugh. We are simple people.

Yard Sale

So the fiancé and I decided to have a yard sale to make money for the upcoming nuptials.

I was excited to get rid of all the old hand-me-down college stuff and The future hubby was interested in making some dough. I mentioned the yard sale to a couple friends and they decided to join in and to sell their stuff at the yard sale too.

WHO KNEW what we were in for.

The sticky 95-degree day started off slowly. Once my clothing was soaked through from hauling the junk to the yard, I sat down and settled into my second skin of sweat.

The morning was boring - This is me doing the yard sale dance -



Besides my lovely dancing - The first sign that the day would be interesting involved a telescope that my friend was trying to sell. A potential buyer looked through the lens only to see a dead mouse curled up inside. How’s that for astronomy!

Early on I was getting frantic that we wouldn’t sell anything and I really didn’t want to move anything back inside. That paired with my inability to sell things led to some crazy sales techniques. Someone would pick up and item and ask how much. I would tell them the price and before I got a reaction, give them a lower price, then a lower one – afraid they would put it down stunned at our greed. It went something like this:

“How much is this?’

“Ten dollars, 5 dollars, no wait, 2 dollars?”

I spent the day practically giving away everything. This did not make the fiance too happy - remember his goal was to make some dough. Fiancé, on the other hand, spent most of the day in the air-conditioning living room watching golf – SO YES, I sold the 32 inch TV for $20 - that's just what happens when you put the impatient, frantic, everything-must go girl outside to work the yard sale.


By 10:30 AM I was ready for a beer. Little did I know that getting a buzz equals higher prices and bad math. An example of my tipsy logic

-A lady came by and was looking at the books when I told her they are a dollar each or three for five. Hmmmm, somehow I don’t think bulk pricing works that way. Needless to say, she didn’t buy a book (or three).

As I'm writing this, I can see how long it could end up – instead below are a list of the more interesting tidbits or lessons learned.

Fact – 40% of yard sale shoppers did not have a majority of their teeth.

Shirts were evidently optional

If the people working the yard sale are enjoying a beer, that means it the buyers must
go back into the beat up van and grab some MGD’s while they shop.

Beware the cracked out shoppers. They show up in Men’s boxers, get excited about every item for sale, and jet off before you know what happened.

If someone offers you two dollars to drive them home, Moriya will do it.

If someone needs help loading their couch at their house – Jonathan will help (even if it means riding away in a scary truck), Nick will not.

Drive up purchases do happen at yard sales. They go something like this –
Someone pulls up and yells out the window, “How much for the TV?”
“$20” I yelled back (fiancé is still pissed at this deep discount).
As a response to my price, they reach their hand out the window with $20 in it, indicating agreement to the price. Meanwhile, an accomplice jumps out of the back seat and goes to pick up the TV.
Just like that, drive up yard sale purchase. No need to turn off the vehicle.

And the unanimous favorite quote of the day -
“Aren’t you my parole officer?”
Response “No, I went to art school”

Favorite customer – Larry (responsible for quote of the day and for buying way too much of our crap).

Please forgive the long post but I have to admit that this was one of the more interesting weekends I've in quite a while.

Momentary Love Affairs

Seems like weeks go by where all I can do is speak the praises of some simple pleasure in life. I want to start a stand of posts called momentary love affairs.

My summer love affair momentarily lies in beer.
I typically enjoy wine. I Seek it out for the complexity of flavors available. I have grown momentarily dissatisfied with my wine choices. My shift from wine to beer has been swift and significant. In just the past few weeks I have been seeking out anything from the deep, dark, chocolate and the rich, amber to the fruity and pale.

It is a torrid affair, one where I don’t even take the time to learn the name of my lover. I spend time savoring the character, but quickly move on to the next intoxication.

My favorite time to indulge is post exercise, soaking in the last long hours of summer on my back deck.

Of all the beers that have enjoyed my affections as of late, my favor lies in the round, amber beer my sister brewed for me. It was so satisfying. I even thought to ask if I could do it. Time consuming was all I heard before I went looking for a new trist.

The brother to this beer was one that Jack made for me. While it did not linger as long in my thoughts, I thoroughly enjoyed its earthy, dark, character. I did not share Jonathan’s sentiments that it was beer mixed with dirt.

Maybe that’s the way it is with love affairs, appreciating all the moods because I’ve not yet grown tired of them.

What's in a name

So what is in a name? A surname to be exact?

Traditionally, in our culture, when a man and woman get married, she takes his last name. That's just the way it's been, and for the most part, the way it still is.

I never even thought about this tradition until I realized it soon will apply to me. Suddenly I had concerns.

Let me start out by saying that I am not a feminist. My concerns with this tradition have nothing to do with a patriarchal society, or the plight of women. My concerns are completely selfish. I like my name. After 28 years, it is more than just a signature. It represents the family I come from (which I'm fiercely proud of), the nicknames I've had, the woman I've become, and the hard work I've put forth both in school and in my career to build that name.

This internal conflict was not something I spent time pondering until my fiance expressed his heartfelt request that I take his name. I would imagine that this is my introduction to marriage—suddenly such a personal decision is not mine to make alone. It will affect him as well as any children we might have.

The conflict was even more troublesome because my fiance is so invested in me changing something so intertwined with my identity. By the way, the "it's just what people do" argument doesn't cut it. I need a better reason than that.

The conversation over my future identity lingered with me all week. I've been circling the office with my questions regarding this tradition.

"Are you changing your name when you get married? Are you ok with the new name?"

And to all the married women, "Was it difficult to get used to? Did you ever consider not changing your name?"

Mind you, this is not a very scientific study. I did not get a good representative sample of the US. These women are all my age, close to my income bracket, and working in the same geography, industry and office. I shouldn't be surprised that many of them shared my concerns. The end result was typically the same—They changed or will be changing their names.

I love my fiance and his family. This has NOTHING to do with his name and EVERYTHING to do with mine. Like I said, this is probably my first lesson in being married - get over yourself already!

Don't worry baby, I'll do it but there might be kicking and screaming along the way!

My 15 Minutes

I am officially famous. I will be appearing in grocery stores and convenience stores nationwide. Be sure to look for the large display of chocolate (how fitting). See below for the pictures.



Wow that picture doesn't do me, or my fame, justice. See below for a more appropriate close up!



Because I want everyone to have fun with my fame, I am introducing a game. "Log the Locations and Win". Think of it as a Where's Waldo of Marci's. Every time you have a Marci sighting (the one on the display, not me in person) come back to my blog and post a comment about where you saw me. The winner will be the person that has the most LEGITIMATE posts. They will win a lot of chocolate. (Only Nestle Chocolate, but hey its free).

Seriously, I will provide the winner with candy bars. (Joe don't mention anything if you notice the candy display is empty tomorrow).

I am also appearing online at http://www.xbox.com/en-US/community/events/nestle

Thank goodness I wasn't one of the poor schleps who's head got replaced. I'm not naming names, but Joe and Rob aren't in the picture anymore.


LET THE GAMES BEGIN!

Taking back the yard

Today, I took back my yard! I stood examining the weed infested flower beds. Those weeds have gotten very comfortable in the nutrient rich soil meant for my shrubs and flowers.

I knew I was in for a battle. By the looks of it they were trying to colonize in MY flowerbed. They had a firm hold of the dirt but I had tools and thumbs in my favor.

Luckily it rained earlier in the day. I thought the rain would thwart my efforts but it stopped. Mother nature was on my side. The rain had loosened the hard clay soil and left the weeds vulnerable.

I prepared for battle, tying up my hair and removing all jewelry. As I surveyed the land, I laid out my plan - I would tackle them one by one.

The first pull of a weed out of the soil-yoink. Those roots don't stand a chance in this moist terrain. In my absence, those weeds had grown lazy. There wasn't any sign of the hard digging and pulling I anticipated.

I spoke too soon. I found my true challengers—the CRABGRASS growing between the cracks in the sidewalk. I tugged, twisted, dug and cursed. DAMN YOU crabgrass!

I was Slowly and painfully making my way to the back of the yard when the rain started. With determination, I kept at the battle. Soon, it was too much. With skinned knuckles and a dirt covered face, The rain forced me to retreat halfway to my victory.

With each drop of rain, I know that soil will loosen.

Crabgrass I will defeat you. Its just a matter of time. Bwah ha ha ha.

Wedding Dresses - round two

OK the novelty has worn off. I am tired of trying on dresses. Its not like playing dress up, now its more "why are you still trying on dresses".

There was one store where I SWEAR the lady put me in ugly dresses all day on purpose. Then she flaunted a couture dress in front of me. At that point, of course I loved it. She said I had Champaign-taste - Whatever lady, the other dresses were just UGLY.

I am what I am calling a "value" bride. I would not even touch a couture dress unless it was discontinued, off-the-rack, and more than half price. There were two that fit that bill. Of course I liked them, but I couldn't stomach the price. As I turned them away, the bargain shopper in me was yelling 75% OFF, ARE YOU CRAZY? GRAB IT AND RUN!!

At one point it was storming and the power went out in the store. I did yell "Grab the dress and run". No one thought that was too funny, except my mom.

At the last dress shop, I could tell I was narrowing it down. Two of the dresses were so similar, I was nit-picking to choose between them. The lady at the store suggested my sister try on the other one next to me so I could see them side by side. God-love my sister who obliged even though she hates the whole wedding dress thing. She helped me finally choose.

I have to send thanks to my Mom and sisters for bearing with me as I go back and forth and back and forth analyzing each aspect of every dress, weighing it against the cost implications.

So I spent more than I planned but I'm happy. Lets hope this doesn't set the tone of entire process.
I figure I'll cut costs from somewhere else (not sure where yet)

The point is, I picked one and moved on - phew, glad I'm done with that.

Wedding Dresses

Today I'm going wedding dress shopping with Momma T. This will be my second trip. Wedding dress shopping is an interesting thing indeed.

You spend time putting on an elaborate dress that is WAY more money than you would normally consider spending. Then you walk out and everyone gasps and tells you how BEAUTIFUL you are. Who would LOVE that.

The problem with this - I know, how could there be a problem with this - the problem with this is that by the end of the day my ego was so artificially inflated that my memory of how I looked in each dress was seriously warped.

The pictures brought me back to reality. No, the dresses didn't suddenly give me a waist or hide the extra pounds. I also had to look at the really bad ones again.

When my friends asked me how it went, I told them that I need my mom and sister to be my cheering section every morning when I get dressed!

At the end of the day, Momma T was ready for more. She planned the agenda for today - how could I turn her down. This time, I wont look back at the pictures. I am the most beautiful girl in the whole world!

Serious about blogging

Ok, I'm going to commit to updating this on a more frequent basis. I am in admiration of people that do this for a living. Not only are they witty writers but they also get all of the tech stuff. RSS feeds, Twitter, social networking....I am so out of it sometimes.

I am lucky enough to know one smart lady that has had serious success with her blog. www.indexed.com. She won awards and stuff.

Other sites I visit - NEVER at work though ;)
www.restaurantwidow.com
www.dooce.com (girls at work turned me on to this site. love it)
www.woot.com - A deal a day!


So it's been a slow start to blogging for me. I have only has 7 posts and 0, yes 0 comments. Come ON people. I know my friends (Mo, I'm calling you out) and family are reading this. To their benefit, I never update the site, so they are frequently disappointed with the lack of content.

NO FEAR, I am committed (to this, not an insane asylum)

Ok, I will starting thinking of good content so the next posts aren't so stream of conciseness.

Mr. and Mrs.

So this post is about a month overdue but it's here all the same. After almost 7 years Jonathan decided to pop the questions.

In true Jonathan fashion, he caught me TOTALLY off guard. He knew with all the "talk" that I would be suspecting a proposal on our upcoming trip. In order to make it a surprise, he did it on the flight (wedding-singer style).

Side note - Our trip was a cruise to celebrate getting my MBA. When I booked the flight, I didn't look too closely at where the layover was. My thought was, as long as we get there on time, who cares. I looked quickly at the itinerary and told Jonathan our layover was in Orlando. His aunt and uncle live in Florida so unbeknownst to me, he told them of his grand plan to propose on the plane. They decided to trek to Orlando and congratulate us as we disembarked. So here's the funny part - our layover was at ORD. Those of you that know your airport codes, know this is O'Hare, CHICAGO. I couldn't figure out why Jonathan was so upset when I told him about my blunder (prior to the trip). My thought was "So what, we're still going on vacation". Now Kenny and Annette (Jonathan's uncle and aunt) think I'm a real bonehead.

So back to the story - We were airborne one the way to CHICAGO at a god-awful early hour when Jonathan got up. I didn't think much of it. I settled into my first book of the trip.

I wasn't even through the first couple pages when there was an announcement. If you are anything like me, you just tune out the announcements. It wasn't until I heard something about "this isn't your crew." and "I'd like a moment of your time." that I realized it was Jonathan. No, I didn't recognize his voice - everyone sounds muddled in those things.

About the time my very sleepy brain had almost figured out what was going on, a very excited flight attendant pointed MY camera right at me. Please remember the VERY early hour. I was not expecting to be noticed, let alone photographed that morning. The camera pointed at me was the last trigger to my unaware self that "this was it". I suddenly was very shaky and nervous - as I can best remember, this is what he said:

"I would like to draw your attention to the woman seated in row 5. She has made the past 6 years of my life magical. I would like to take this moment to ask her to spend the rest of her life with me. Marci, will you please stand up?"

I stood but in that awkward way you do on a plane because there isn't enough room to stand upright. I also couldn't see him so I looked at the plane full of people and mouthed, "where is he?". Everyone pointed toward the front.

I walked into the aisle and towards him. He got down on one knee and opened the box to my beautiful ring!

This picture shows how fabulously unrehearsed and awkward it was. We both have hilarious faces and the picture is crazy blurry (that flight attendant was very excited). It is hard to post such a bad picture of myself but I have to share that moment with everyone!



After that I think I carried the ring around in the box- either totally forgetting to put it on my finger or too nervous to touch it.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep on the plane!

Sammy—my second kid

Sammy was a Christmas present to me in 2006. I had been begging Jonathan for a Great Dane—they are such beautiful dogs. They are also big couch potatoes, very lazy. The lazy part was rather important because Jonathan and I work long hours. In an attempt to find me the present of my dreams - at a reasonable price, he searched the shelters. That is where he found Sammy and I'm glad he did. Sammy is a great dog. She LOVES people. She is NOT, however, lazy. She is the complete opposite in fact - but I'll get to that later.

The funny part of the story is that Sammy was being "marketed" as a great dane mix. She is more like a pit bull/lab mix. The other interesting tidbit is that Sammy was not quite a cute little puppy when I got her - She was almost 9 months old.

So how did it happen? Well, we spend every Christmas Eve at Jonathan's mom's house. This is where he had hid her. I walked into the house and this medium sized dog ran up to me. The first thing out of my mouth was "who's dog is this". Everyone had this funny grin on their face, making it apparent they knew something I didn't. She was my christmas present. I was so excited and completely caught off guard.

Because Sammy was already so big (40lbs when I got her), it wasn't exactly like connecting with a puppy. She came with me to my parents house the next day. Poor Murphy, my parents aging golden retriever, didn't know what to do.

Sammy, meet Franklin
Bringing Sammy home was interesting because if you remember I already have a kid - Franklin. I wasn't too worried about Franklin when I was asking for a puppy because I thought they could get used to each other while the dog was still small. This was not the way it was meant to happen. Luckily, Franklin is a pretty curious and brave cat, fearless I might say.

Of course, months after we had brought Sammy home, I read an article about how to introduce new pets in the home. It was very in-depth and helpful, but way too late.

If I remember correctly, Sammy bounded in the house and practically pounced on the cat. Franklin backed way up and puffed into a round ball of fur. To his credit, he did not run. The minute Sammy was disinterested, Franklin, always curious, would try and steal a sniff. Although Sammy didn't mean any harm, she was too rough, trying to paw at the cat with her giant mitts. Franklin surprised Sammy with a couple good swipes across the nose. He is not declawed.

Slowly, the two began to tolorate one another. Every once in a while you'll hear claws scatter across the hardwood as Sammy decides to chase Franklin into a corner. Franklin will tease Sammy too. He'll run right in front of her, making a little noise, practically asking Sammy to chase him. It's an interesting dynamic to watch.

The Fence
If you remember, I mentioned that Sammy is not lazy. The fence is a perfect example of her pent up energy. Our backyard is rather large and is contained by a privacy fence. This is something I had considered when asking for a dog. The fence is old and rotting in a couple of place, but still stable, that is until Sammy got bored.

Our neighbors have a dog as well. Sammy and the neighbor dog, who I'll call Coffee, became fast friends. We would let them play together whenever we were around to supervise. After a couple months - Sammy got quite bored with our backyard. Nothing was new to her anymore. So she decided to leave. Sammy is determined. She proceeded to dig under the fence until she could get her jaws around the bottom of a fence plank. She would lock her jaws and pull back with all her might. She proceeds to rip the fence down panel by panel. Luckily, she was typically only going through to visit Coffee, and that yard is also fenced in.

At first we were amused—proud our dog that was smart enough, and strong enough to do this. The amusement did not last long. We began systematically replacing our fence - panel by panel. Not to mention, Sammy found a way out of the neighbor's yard as well. Soon we were searching the neighborhood. Needless to say, Sammy doesn't go out without supervision any more.

Franklin, my first kid

I love my fluffy cat - he will most likely be the topic of many posts. He is a large cat - close to 15 pounds, but not fat - just big.

Franklin loves foot pets. He will follow Jonathan around the house and flop on top of Jonathan's feet as soon as he reaches his destination. The flop is as much a description of his movement as a sound he makes when he does it. He will drop so hard that sometimes he grunts as he hits the ground.

Almost weekly Jonathan and I come up with new names for Franklin (who we really should have named Buddy because that's what I typically call him).

Most recent nicknames for Franklin:
Freido
Pumpkin
Pineapple
Number 2 (like the pencil)
Fluffer-nutter (cause he's fluffy)

Franklin often claims things for his own and we find him too cute to deprive him.
Things the cat has claimed:

A piece of luggage that lays on its side in our bedroom. I arrived home from a trip and unpacked the contents of the suitcase but did not put it away. Two seconds later he was tentatively testing the structure for support. It became his favorite spot. Franklin loves the way the closed, empty suitcase gives slightly when he lays on top of it.

His busket - this is a storage container that we aptly named his busket (cross between a basket and bucket) The interesting thing about this storage container is that it is rather small for a cat of his size. When he curls up inside of it, it looks like someone poured butterscotch fluff into the container - SO CUTE.




His water bottle - So the vet told me long ago that boy cats do not typically drink enough water. Franklin is a typical cat in that regard. He will not drink out of a bowl. The vet technician gave me a tip - try one of those bottles used to feed gerbils. I bought one at my next trip to the pet store. Jonny engineered a way for it to hang in the kitchen, where it stays today. He (Franklin, not Jonathan) often sits in front of it and meows for us to help him (we squeeze the bottle so the water comes out more quickly). He can get the water just as well on his own but prefers we sit there and squeeze it for him - we typically do not.

So that's a little about my first kid.

About me

To know about me, you have to know about my family. I have two sisters that are near and dear to my heart, my parents that I can't believe survived raising three girls, a fabulous boyfriend who you'll hear more about, a cat that acts like a dog, and a dog that doesn't know the meaning of 'easy'.

What are my interests? - Photography, food, travel, a good book

What do I do? - I work full time in the marketing/ad industry while going to graduate school for my MBA.

Where am I? - Where it's so gray, I have to take vitamin D to get my daily dose of sunlight. OK, maybe its not always gray here, but its February and spring can't arrive fast enough.

Why am I blogging? - Looking for a creative outlet, I guess.

What else? - You want to know? Email me and I'll post it.