Filed under: Uncategorized
So, Will(23), CJ(20), #4(12) and I were having dinner this evening. Terry, who is the mature person in the household, had some sort of business meeting and wasn’t there.
At some point in the conversation, Will tells of of a friend he has who is a yoga instructor, and how she deals with young male assholes who come to her class. She has them get into something called The Position Of The Child (you who’ve done yoga might know what this is) and hold his breath.
this makes him fart.
Which is embarrassing when you’re in a class with a bunch of hot women in tight pants.
So naturally, since we are who we are, this had to be tried. With much hilarity resulting because we, in this household, think farts are the funniest thing ever.
Dinner halted as everyone got on the floor and held their breath.
because we’re goobers.
and easily entertained.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Tonight I was cooking Thai, and opened a can of lychee fruits.
“What’s that?” #4 asked.
“canned camel’s balls” I answered
“you can get those??” he exclaimed
“yes!” I said, and showed him the can, covering the title, but showing the image of hairy ball shaped things.
“Hm.” he said,after trying one, “I didn’t expect them to be so sweet.”
So the whole Homer Affair was pretty awful. I won’t say it’s as bad as it gets, because my children are all alive and healthy, no one is starving, no one has been abducted into sexual slavery in Thailand. (my mind knows no limits when it comes to thinking up awful scenarios)
However, it was pretty awful nonetheless.
In response to it all, Terry (bless him) called the breeder we got Homer from (Porth Kennels, y’all… if you ever want a miniature dachshund GO THERE), the veterinarian where we got the Sentinel, and my father (a retired veterinarian), to let everyone know what happened.
I think I said that in the last post.
Anyway…Missy Porth, in an incredible act of generosity, offered us another puppy. Yesterday we made the drive to Lexington, SC and picked out Rusty, half brother to Homer.
Rusty, born 5/30/11
If Homer was Homersaurus Rex, Rusty is a Rustyplodicus. Ok, no more comparisons.
Why did Terry name him Rusty? After his favorite race car driver, the now retired Rusty Wallace. Other names that were considered: Harry (he was Harry about for about an hour), and an assortment of Teutonic names like Beowulf, Otto, and Heinz. Thor was considered for about 30 seconds. I called him Grover once, when I couldn’t remember Rusty. I do that with everyone and every thing, having a terrible memory for names.
He and Terry watched the race last night. The dog sprawls. Back legs behind, forelegs to the side, belly flat on the cool floor. He nibbles, too. He ate kibbles like popcorn, watched the race, and WENT INTO THE YARD to do his business! none of this puppy “whatever wherever” stuff.
He is a POLITE litte fella. Terry put his bed on the floor next to ours last night, and threw a used t-shirt over him. He promptly went to sleep until about 2am, when Terry heard “um…excuse me please, I don’t mean to be a bother but I’m kind of lonely down here.” and he picked him up and Rusty mooched around on the bed for a few minutes, then snuggled in and went back to sleep. Terry put him back in his own bed, where he slept on until about 6, when he woke up, peed ON THE PAD NOT THE FLOOR (stunning!)and asked to get back in bed with us.
Amazing.
The 3 Old Maids seems to kinda sorta like him Ok, I guess. Even the cats aren’t acting like we’ve tried to introduce them to Beezelbub. No (ok not much) hissing, poofing of tails, or panicking.
And I am totally paranoid about putting him outside without me being there to watch closely. I haven’t figured out what to do this morning for church,but I’ll work something out.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Homersaurus Rex,we had him less than a week, folks. I took him to the vet and he was given a gold star for being healthy, and a tablet of Sentinel, the heartworm and flea once a month preventative. And he had an allergic reaction to it and died. I’d given him the tablet and a cheese nip, then sent him outside for a bit. I know, NOW I know, I should have kept him in and watched him for a reaction. NOW I know that. I could have given him benadryl. I could have, I should have, I could beat myself up 100 hours, and I am.
Terry called his breeder and told her, so she could warn others. He called the vet, and they apologized. He called my father (a retired veterinarian) and he said Sentinel has had issues with allergic reactions, and my vet should have known this. Now I’m angry and I am going to change vets. With 4 dogs and 2 cats that’s not insignificant.
Yesterday was horrible. poor Homer.
Missy Porth, the breeder, generously called and offered us another puppy, so we’re going up there today to get one. and we will not name him Homer. Perhaps we should give it more time, for grieving and such. But the older dogs and cats were just getting used to Homer, and I want to carry that on, rather than give them time to get unused to him and have to go through the whole process all over again. And Terry, he needs his shop buddy. AND NO SENTINEL.
I’ll give baths and combings. No SYSTEMIC FLEA STUFF.
Good Lord that was traumatic. Poor, poor Homer. He was just getting into the groove of the household,was almost housebroken even.
Sigh.
Filed under: Uncategorized
that’s his new name. He was so laid back and mellow when we got him, like “dude, whatever…i’ll just lay here and chill.” but apparently he was either drugged or had to evaluate the situation or something because NOW he’s not LIKE that. O No…NOW he’s all RAWR Ima DINASORE RAWR and gnawing on appropriate toys as long as I keep them handy. Y’know, roadkills and things like that, rubber bones and stuff.
#4 picked him out a toy called ‘roadkill skunk’ which totally appealed to him because he’s a 12 year old boy. The thing is like a stuffed animal skunk with no stuffing and the eyes are all strange. It has a squeaker at each end which Homer ignores but drives Daisy bananas when you squeak it. She goes all 50 Year Old Virgin Librarian with her “GIMME THAT NOW” then gnaws on it until she gets to the squeaker and goes out in the yard and buries it. Hates it she does.
The Old Maids are warming up to him a bit. They won’t cuddle yet, but they don’t act like they’re going to eat him either.
AND! Last night he slept in his bed without crying at all! Terry hit on the perfect solution. Homer’s bed is next to ours, on the floor, and Terry threw the t-shirt he wore that day on top of Homer, who snuggled down into it and fell right asleep, for the whole night except once when he got up, trotted into the bathroom, and pooped on the rug. At least he had the room right, yeah? not a whimper or a whine, just a happy snuggle with a sweaty, stinky t-shirt.
So that’s my tip for getting your puppy to sleep all night without crying. Let him sleep in your bed a couple of nights, to get used to your scent, then give him a shirt you got sweaty in to sleep with, in his own bed. Ding!
Filed under: *whinge*
Typically, I enjoy buying groceries. It’s fun. (no, I don’t get out much, why do you ask?). There is a very set method:
1. I always use tote bags. I despise plastic grocery bags because they suck, and everything falls over in the trunk and the check out people only put 2 or 3 things in each bag so you wind up with about 1000. They load the tote bags up FULL, and they line up neatly in the buggy and trunk.
2. I always have a comprehensive list, organized by type of food (Dairy, Meat, Canned, etc) and in order of where the stuff is in the store. (compulsive much? y’think?) The list is made at the same time I make 2 weeks worth of menus, so I always have what I need to fix supper.
3.I go in the morning, after dropping #4 at school and before the store gets busy. A cup of coffee is aquired from McDonalds or Panera. I wish buggies had cupholders.
4.I like to buy one item that has not been tried before. This time: TrueLemon raspberry lemonade mix. It’s good! Alot more tart than Crystal Light.
5. When putting food on the checkout belt thing, I stand everything up neatly, and by catagory, so cans go in one bag and boxes in another, and there’s none of this annoying business of 27 unrelated objects being in bag together. I will even repack the bags if I dislike the way the clerk has done it. There is one clerk who’s line I seek out, as she is perfectly orderly in her method,and she appreciates the way I load the conveyor belt. It also keeps bananas and tomatoes from getting mashed. I HATE it when that happens. When I watch someone else just flinging things on the belt willy-nilly, I have to look the other way,because I am pretty sure their pantry is equally disorganized. (Hush Ruth. I’m talking about pantries, not refrigerators)
6.Upon arriving home, food is put away in a particular order. Refrigerated first, then freezer (except for stuff that has to be repackaged),cans,boxes, then meats are repackaged (I buy bulk quantities) and frozen.
7. Tote bags are carefully and compulsively folded neatly and stashed in the Brodie Meter tote bag(it’s slightly bigger) and hung on the hook in the utility room.
Lather, rinse, repeat 2 weeks later.
The sameness of the chore is comforting. I will usually run into a friend at some point, who’s doing the same thing, and get to have a bit of a chat. Today it was Kim.
However, today’s expedition was lacking something. I didn’t get the cup of coffee to sip on and consequently everything seemed off. Hurried and disorganized. I kept forgetting something and having to backtrack an aisle or two and became a little irritable. It also took much longer than normal, and I cannot figure out why. Typically I’m in the store by 8:10, and out by 9. Today I was in at 8:30 (David needed a ride) and didn’t get out until 10:00! That felt like the entire morning was knocked off kilter!
I did, however, get a bottle of white wine, with which to make a pitcher of strawberry peach sangria,that I had at Outback the other day. It was tasty tasty tasty.
So, I’ve been blogging now for about 10 years. There’s 6 years worth here, and another 4 elsewhere that I don’t remember. Maybe some of you do…doesn’t matter.
Anyway, there are a few blogs I’ve followed throughout my writing ‘career’. I like to follow people who aren’t like me…or don’t seem to be. People from different places, different stages of their lives, that sort of thing. If all I ever read were Middle Aged Southern Women With Guilt Complexes it would get real old real quick. I can get that at home all day long.
I like meeting people who’s blogs I’ve followed. You kind of get to know someone through their writing. The first virtual friend I met was Northern Girl. She had a thing in Charleston and drove down to Savannah for a day, and we met up, went to the beach, ate lunch and connected face-to-face. It’s interesting how comfortable it is to meet someone you kinda know about except for those fundamental things like what their voice sounds like or how they walk.
Last night I got to meet Renegade Evolutionand Mr E, on their way down to Florida. I’ve followed her writing for 9 years now, and while we are…shall we say….Different in many ways, there’s much in common as well. We had dinner (Terry was there too) and it was this sudden yack-fest like Old Home Week or something. It was fun to meet her in person because she’s this wee little bit of stuff with a massive head of hair (even contained in a hat is was like a horse’s tail) which I’d known about but seeing is believing.
If you read her blog,she’s kind of pugnacious, and puts herself out there as some kind of unrefined hick, and while no, she wasn’t dressed in Talbots with Papagallo espadrilles, she wasn’t a goober straight out of the woods “here wanna buy a bag of meth?” either. She and Mr E were delightfully….(please don’t hit me, Ren) Normal, regular folks on a trip to Florida stopping for dinner.
And I REALLY like having a real picture in my head, complete with tone of voice and how she walks (excellent posture btw, even with back issues) to put with the words on the screen.
I am hoping we can meet up again. Next time we’ll go up there and get that tour she promised.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Stinky little puppy shoved up next to me, snoring softly and groaning occasionally.
2 Old Maids in the chair across the room, sleeping and occasionally cracking open an eye to glare at the puppy.
1 more Old Maid on the floor, pretty sure her comfortable life has ended, to be replaced with purgatory in the form of stinky puppy.
Only 1 Old Maid is showing any sort of enthusiasm for the stinky puppy, and even that is dubious. She tries, nosing him gently and swishing her tail once or twice, and he tries, but it’s like a 2 year old trying to play with a 29 year old Librarian who never wanted kids.
I amsure eventually everything will all settle in.
Filed under: aaawwwww
Terry got in touch with Missy at Porth Kennels, and we drove the 2-1/2 hours to look at puppies. There were several to choose from, and rather than choosing one (how do you pick just one?), Terry sat down in the little pen and allowed 11 pups to crawl all over him. 3 ignored him completely, 5 sniffed him over then walked away, 2 played with him a bit, and 1 crawled in his lap and refused to leave.
A dog and his ankles
His name is Homer, and our Old Lady dogs treat him like he’s made of kryptonite. The cats are pretty sure he’s Up To No Good, and watch him carefully from a high place that he can’t reach. He is sweet and quiet, so far.
Lacy, at the top, is pretty sure Homer is up to no good.
His favorite place is on Terry’s shoulders, though he seems to settle for next to him on the couch, in a pinch.
A Man And His Dog
Filed under: *eep!
You see, we only have 3 of them. And they’re like potato chips. Who only eats 3 potato chips? And the odd number upsets the balance of The Universe According To Rootietoot. The obvious answer is to get another one.
Plus, Terry has been wanting one for quite some time. Over a year, really. Only I have been reluctant because if he gets one, while it would technically be his, I’m the one who would get all the fun. Only, at night? Totally his.
But during the day he’s at work and I’m at home…so totally mine during the day.
Sigh. I think we might be getting a new puppy soon.
Terry turns to pudding-for-brains around babies of any sort. It’s endearing and he always looks so satisfied when a small creature is crawling on him. He’s had it hard at work the past…hm…5-1/2 years. He needs a cuddle buddy that won’t growl at him when he comes in the door, or look pissed when he doesn’t share his popcorn.
That’s the thing about male dachshunds, so I’ve been told. They have that whole “loyal hound” thing going. Female dachshunds are only loyal to whomever is closest to the food.
And he wants a wirehaired. According to people who know, apparently wirehairs are Very Serious, Indeed. Long hairs are goofy and keep the puppy mojo all their lives. This I can verify, for our 2 longhairs are very puppy-like, even at 8 and 6 years old. Short hairs are supposed to be quite Houndlike,which I can also anecdotally verify, as Dear Departed Rosy (R.I.P.) and Daisy, now 6-1/2 were and are VERY houndish,with the nose always to the ground, lazyexcept when they’re not, that sort of thing.
So anyway,I’ve put an email to the breeder in South Carolina where we bought Lacy and Lily,to see what she has available. Terry is interested in the third one down.
Sigh. am I nuts? The only thing that stopped us from getting one earlier this year was the travel plans, but those were cancelled and due to MORE WORK! YAY! we probably won’t be travelling again until next Summer. So it seems like a good time.
