Month: August 2011

The only time I’ve not had a dog in my entire life was the five years we lived in Maryland.  When we had to give Clem away when we moved there, I cried and cried and am always on the prowl for a Clem look-a-like. Currently, we have a dog, cat, Boy Child’s hamster and a couple of fish tanks.  Yep, we love the animals.

The other day, I was watching t.v. and a commercial for dog food came on and said, “If you’re a pet parent……….”   What?  I understand the attachment to a pet and I often talk to mine like they’re capable of dispensing advice, but I am not, nor never will be the parent of an animal.  You know the difference when you are a parent, because a dog will not roll its eyes at you, does not make fun of you and so far, is not capable of putting you in a nursing home.  A sick dog will not make you bargain with God to do anything to make it better, including taking you.  A dog wags its tail every time you walk in the door (even if you left a minute ago to take out the garbage) and loves you almost as much as feeding time.  A child, however, will take that comfort zone rug you’ve been laying on all your life, rip it out from under you and while you crawl to get back to it, they’ll have tossed it out the door.

And that’s o.k., because it is youth that changes things, that questions the status quo and puts a mirror in front of you to examine and defend your beliefs, and then slowly changes everything about your life.  While they’re doing what they’re meant to do, we all get pushed forward, for better or worse, and no dog is going to do that.

We are finishing up our fabulous week of vacay with better posts to come next week.  Sorry :(.  I thought I’d be writing away up here, but a girl from land-locked Kansas can’t waste her time doing that when there’s so much lovely water to gaze upon.   In the meantime, I thought I’d post a picture of The Big Daddy in some sweet, little shorts I crocheted just for the occasion.  Oh, he’s a looker all right, but sorry, ladies, he’s taken.

With Oprah in reruns and closing up shop, I think we need a new Favorite Things Sheriff in town.  Okay, I’ll be it. 

The Daily Show
I heart anything on t.v. that does not make the assumption that I am stupid.

Headbutler.com
See above.

Pinterest
I am addicted to this website.  Like I need an intervention.

Stevie Wonder, Dean Martin, Usher, James Taylor & Michael Buble
I love me a man that can sing me out of a bad mood.

Chip and salsa.  Chips and guacamole.  Chips and hummus.
No explanation needed.


Savers Thrift Store
Recently purchased an Ann Taylor black silk dress for $12.99 less 30%.  Score.


Gin and tonic.
The go to drink of the summer for me and The Big Daddy.


Garnet Hill, Sundance and Pottery Barn catalog.
Add to make-believe shopping cart with make-believe pile of money.


Sparks Flea Market
Two times a year.  Lots of farmers clearing out their barns of vintage goods with a little flirting to go with that deal we’re bound to make.


The Book of Wisdom
A spiral I’ve kept for many years of great writing – be it quotes, articles, advice or motivation.  I add to it and look it over all the time.

Malted Milk Balls
When the kids were little, I kept a stash hidden inside the crockpot.  Whenever there was a meltdown at the OK Corral (like every day), the kids would be sent off somewhere to “think about their behavior” and I’d head for the balls to de-stress.


I plan to update this from time to time, but I’ve kept the first one basic and inexpensive, because that’s how I roll these days.  Most good things in life are the simple pleasures, right?  I kinda crack myself up sometimes with my AHA moments.

This photo has been on my fridge for six months.  My dream kitchen.  See, I even wrote that on there in case somebody needed an idea for a birthday present.  Oh Lordy, how I love looking at this picture.  I imagine myself in there getting ready for a dinner party.  I look pretty.  I’m standing under the chandelier and the soft light is making me glow.  Good working dimmers.  I’ve washed my hair.  For once.  I have makeup on and took time putting on concealer so my undereye circles look sufficiently concealed.  I’m wearing wedges and a cute, ruffled apron over my little black dress.  Big Daddy comes down and he looks handsome and smells good.  He puts his arm around me and says, “Would my lovely wife like a glass of wine?”  I smile, he whispers in my ear and I throw my head back and laugh.  Oh, it’s the dream life I have in that kitchen.

Do you see how the whole corner was ripped off?  The Big Daddy needed some scratch paper and used this piece of paper.  My dream kitchen picture.  I can’t even have a copy of something nice.  How am I supposed to daydream about my dream life in my dream kitchen when the photo looks like the dog chewed on it?  My dream kitchen photo has become a snapshot of my real life, as if I needed a reminder of something that started out nice until it got into this house.

Isn’t this a great little dresser?  It’s next to The Big Daddy’s side of the bed.  It’s much bigger than his last dresser and gives him more room to store his books and other reading material in all the drawers.  It’s also where we store all our sex toys.  I kid. I kid.

He likes having it on his side of the bed for many, many reasons. 

Sheesh, this is where the fur handcuffs are supposed to go.

Mallie Bee and I were at CVS, each buying some things.  I was before her and when all my items were rung up, the cashier asked me if I would like to donate $1.00 to ALS.  One dollar.  I said no because it’s automatic to me when someone is trying to upsell me something at the register to turn them down.  When I had ten seconds to think it over, I said of course, yes, add that on, what was I thinking.

Mallie Bee went next, paid for her items and we left.  When we got in the car she said, “That lady never asked me if I would like to donate $1.00.”  Would you have, I asked her.  Yes, she said, I think that would be a terrible disease to have and I would want to do something for someone who has it.

It nearly made me cry to think in all of my fumbling and bumbling through parenthood, I raised a teenager who makes minimum wage handling other people’s dirty clothes and she doesn’t have to think long about parting with some of it to help another.  It also nearly made me cry to think I was close to blowing it all by example.