You're My Friends, Too

Has it really been since January 3 since I last posted? I am surprised Blogger didn't just up and delete my account, figuring I'd never be back. Holy crap.

Anyway, those of you who are my "friend" on facebook may or may not have (may not have being more likely, because I doubt anyone is wasting time thinking about this) noticed, January is about the time I jumped on the FB wagon and became a poster of tidbits. What am I doing now? How do I feel about the weather? What kind of day did I have? What am I eating for dinner? All of my life wrapped up into neat little one-liners.

This has been good for me. Work has been so hectic, it is a rare day that I can come home and compose more than one sentence at a time. And even though it is hectic, I still love it... So the need to vent isn't really there. And then there's the stability of my relationship. And so before I loved my job and had a stable relationship, my blog was about my ridiculous job and my adventures in dating and then there was the filler stuff about my dogs and my occasional forays into the kitchen. But that filler stuff does not an interesting blog make.

Or does it? Or do I really care? I don't know. I suppose if I have trouble coming up with coherent paragraphs (which, clearly, I have having trouble with right now), I can write single line snippets about things I already posted on facebook, like

• I am engaged.
• Coconut has pink eye. She is on a 10 day, 3 times per day regimen of eye drops and ointments. Poor baby keeps rubbing her face up against the couch. I hope I don't get it.
• My dad taught me how to change an electrical outlet last week and then I practiced by changing about 10 of them at my grandma's shore house.
• I watched the season finale of Idol while drinking wine and eating frozen pizza. Good times.

Or things that I don't really want to write on Facebook, like

• I wonder how to get my dogs to stop eating their own shit without following them around and scooping up after them, because they don't just leave it alone until I can clean it up on the weekend. I've tried sprinkling it with cayenne pepper, thinking that if they tasted a couple turds that were too spicy, they'd think ALL turds were spicy and thus undelicious. Following them around for a few days sprinkling cayenne on all the poop would be easier than following them around FOREVER cleaning up all the poop. It didn't work-- they think cayenne-covered shit is just as tasty as plain. Anyway, something's gotta be done. It's not making them sick, but it sure as hell makes me sick when they belch ass-smell into my face.
• I've been doing Weight Watchers since February and have lost 16 lbs, which is great and all... better than nothing, better than gaining, weight stays off longer when it comes off slower, blah blah blah blah. It's taking too long and I know it's my own fault for being so lax about it and not exercising, and still the fact that I am paying for it every month makes me feel like I should be losing weight anyway, without really trying. It's not working that way, obv, and I'm getting frustrated. My plan is to join Curves come summer. I know it's not a REAL gym, but it's something. I don't have to mess around with weights. I can't use weather as an excuse. It's a full body workout. Fast. Easy. SOMETHING. Better than nothing, see?
• I don't want to plan my wedding. I want to be married. But the wedding planning? Blech. And it's not that I don't care what my wedding is like. I do... I just don't want to be the one to make it that way. Also, I wanted to have it sometime within the next year, but my brother is being deployed in February for 6 months, so unless we hurry up and do it in January, I have to wait until at least September of 2010. That's a long-ass time away, and the whole thing just makes me mad. It makes me mad at my stupid brother for joining the guard just to get the signing bonus, and then it makes me feel guilty because if something were to happen to him over there, really, my wedding would be irrelevant, and on top of it all, it makes me feel like I'm being some kind of ridiculous bridezilla whiner for being annoyed that I can't have my wedding exactly when I had initially planned. In short, I become a grump whenever people ask me IF I'VE SET A FUCKING DATE YET NO I HAVE NOT!!!! See? Grumpy.

And, A-HA! Apparently I still have some rant left in me. The Frizz Chronicles can survive after all!

The life

While you were busy cleaning up our poop, JESSICA, we dogs were having the BEST YEAR EVER!!!

New Year's Resolution: Pick Up Dog Shit

I have been a dog owner for a year and a half now. I have been a two-dog owner for the last 11 weeks.

I have never picked up dog poop in my own yard.

Stop! Now before you go getting all judgy judgy on me, I'd like to point out that during the time when we only had Coconut, there were only very small turds scattered around the yard, and most of them were sucked up by the lawn mower, and I don't think that anyone other than me has ever stepped in a pile while back there.

If you're still in the mood to judge, judge this: I bought this contraption

this morning, and then spent an hour walking the yard like a grid and scooping up every last solitary frozen piece of dog shit. I even scraped up the smashed-in ones!

I filled two entire large plastic grocery bags, and honestly, I was surprised by the weight of them! I had to fight the urge to bring the bags into my house and put them on the scale!

Which, oddly, brings me to this:

Alex's worst insults for people always tend to have "bag" tagged onto the end. Dickbag, Assbag, the ever popular Douchebag... you get the point. I asked him about this once, and he said that calling someone a bag of something is even harsher than calling them just that one undesirable thing.

I never really thought about it again until today. A shitbag is WAY worse than one single shit.

Snippets

My house is uncommonly calm right now. I have a homemade soup simmering on the stove, and when I sat down to do some web-browsing, Marley helped herself to a spot on the couch and Coconut took her pre-Marley post as my blogging partner by sitting on my lap and watching the cursor travel across the screen.

*****

Thanksgiving was pretty good this year. We feasted at my parents' house, and Alex's mom and brother joined us. My brother was home for a change (he was deployed the last two Thanksgivings), and with the exception of A's brother (who was strangely quiet and made an abrupt departure), everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

*****

Last Sunday we did Marley's mange treatment. She was a trooper during the bath, but I felt soooo bad sticking her soaking wet into a crate and making her air-dry. After about 30 minutes of watching her sit there and shiver, I took a hair dryer to her. (We have borrowed a space heater from my parents for next time.) She spent the next two days sleeping like a log, waking only to eat and go outsite, and her skin is still red and raw in some places. I can't believe we have to do this at least 3 more times.

*****

Alex's birthday was last Friday. I gave him some golf club he hasn't shut up about for the last year and a half. On Saturday night we went to Harrah's. It's not our favorite casino, but it's the only place we've ever won anything significant. We had dinner at the new McCormick & Schmick's they have there. We were both totally unimpressed-- my Fresh Seafood Mixed Grill was bland, and the risotto it was served on was tasty but mushy. Alex asked for a crabcake alongside his filet mignon, and the waitress ended up bringing him an entire crabcake entree in addition to his filet entree. He was scared to send it back for fear that someone might spit in his dessert, so that ended up costing us an extra $30. Also, we didn't really win anything.

*****

My cousin's Bat Mitzvah was two weeks ago. My mom made the interesting observation that no one seems to dance anymore unless it is a choreographed dance like the Cha Cha Slide. Apparently it is more about knowing the words to every song. Most of the teens just kind of bounced around in groups, yelling lyrics at each other. The high point (for me, anyway) was when my brother and Alex won the dance contest. The couples dance contest. As a couple. We also got my grandma to don a giant pink fur pimp hat and red aviator sunglasses. I have already ordered the picture of that one from the photog's website.

Marley and Alex and Me

The test results came back for Marley's most recent poo sample, and not only did the giardia not go away, but she has roundworms too. Giardia AND mange AND roundworms. Her little body is teeming with all these disgusting parasites. Her nickname has become Buggy, and I continue to feel more and more sorry for her. Apparently, the one dose of heartworm meds (that also prevent some other worms) that she has had since we got her was not enough to protect her from the dangers of eating rabbit turds. You might remember, I had this same issue with Coconut when we first got her, but she (knock on wood) managed to avoid catching anything. Anyway, now Marley is on three different oral meds, and we'll be doing her first mange dip tomorrow.

*****

In other news, and yes, there are other things going on in my life, I have perhaps the best boyfriend ever. I came home on Thursday (Alex's day off), and he had cleaned the whole main floor of our house, including floors, cooked dinner, did all his laundry, and even bought me a medicated Chap Stick (although that was probably for selfish reasons, wink wink, har har). When I opened the cabinet to get my coffee mug the next morning, I saw that he organized all the tupperware, and when I opened the closet to get my coat, all of the shit that used to be on the floor in there was gone.

Now I sort of feel guilty for sitting around all day today, like maybe I should have cleaned the bathroom and stuff instead. But obviously I don't feel that guilty, because here I sit, blogging away.

*****

Kid-Bit (it's back!)

Sometimes, because my students aren't entirely... aware of what goes on around them, I forget to watch what I say. The other day, one of my aides received a giant bouquet of flowers, and explained to us that they were sent from her boyfriend, who she fought with the night before. The fight ended in him saying, "fuck you," and her throwing him out of her house. "So they are Eff You flowers, " I said.

And my little A repeated, "A FEW FLOWERS!"

"That's right!" I told him, "A few flowers."

More Dog Stuff

So remember how a couple weeks ago I was all, "Take That, Vet Office Lady!" because I asked her if Marley's hair loss was due to her parasite, and she said no, and I found information to the contrary online?

Um, Marley has Mange.

I feel so bad for her. When I took her to the vet on Wednesday night, they knew immediately when they saw her. Still, they did several skin scrapings to be sure. I am tempted to put the word "scrapings" in quotes, because a scrape sounds harmless and does not convey what they actually did, which was pin her down and use a razor blade to remove samples of her skin. It made me want to cry.

It turnes out that the type of mite she has is not really contageous to humans or other dogs... she most likely got it while nursing, and the reason the hair loss only started to show recently was because her immune system was down from her initial set of vaccines.

The treatment sounds aweful, and I am dreading it. In addition to the disgusting-smelling pill I am throwing into her food bowl twice a day, we are going to have to do a "dip." There are several steps to this process. We have to start by putting protective drops into her eyes. Then we have to wash her with a special shampoo, and towel dry. Then we have to mix a dropperful of what is essentially an insecticide with a half gallon of water and pat her down with spongefulls of it until it is all gone. They said it smells terrible and that it should be done in a well-ventilated place and that we need to wear rubber gloves! I have to protect my skin from the stuff I am putting all over my dog! She then has to air-dry... She is so skinny and she is going to have to be in a room with an open window and it is freezing outside and I can't even bundle her up in a towel. I am also told that because it is such a strong chemical, she will seem like she is drunk for a couple days. OMG!!! We have to do this four times, too!

I can't believe the difference between getting a dog from a reputible breeder and getting a dog from someone who apparently went to some shady-as-shit operation where they leave out parasite-infested water and their breeding dogs have mange. Coconut came with papers to which all of the labels from her vaccines had been attached. I don't even know Marley's birthday.

Dog Cookies and People Cookies

When I reached up to get a dog cookie from the bag on the top of the fridge, I was not expecting said bag to be empty. I haven't given treats for peepees in awhile, since both dogs tend to fixate on the treats and not actually go to the bathroom. So when I did find that there were no cookies in the bag, my first thought went to Alex. Is he using them to secretly trick the dogs into liking him better? Then I thought, oh, they are sitting on an open box of trash bags. Maybe last time I took one, I didn't close the bag all the way, and they tumbled out into the box...

Alas, that is when I stood on my tippy toes to check the box, and came across the unfortunate view of mouse poop. Lots of it. Allllll on top of the garage fridge.

I think we all know where the cookies went now, don't we?

When I called my dad to shriek about the whole situation (Alex is working and didn't answer his cell), he gave me several options, as follows:

1. Sticky pads... but then you might have to deal with finding a live one stuck to it.
2. Trap... with the same drawback as above, unless you get a humane trap, in which case you have to find a place to let the mouse go where it won't just return to your house.
3. Poison... which "eats them from the inside out," (ugh) causing them to look for water, which will be outside, which will mean they are not in your house.
4. Keep putting food in the garage. This will not get them out of the garage, but it will keep them out of your house, since they won't need to search for food elsewhere.

He then continued to run through a number of scenarios in which: the baby mouse was able to return to the nest (that he imagines to be under my deck) toting an entire Milk Bone and filled with pride; the father mouse carries back one under each arm, which is difficult, but he has responsibilities to provide for his family, so he trudges along; one thousand mice make a sort of assembly line from under my deck to the top of my fridge, passing along one at a time until the entire bag is empty.

I am dreading the whole capturing process, because Alex is a Girly Man, and it is almost certain that he will refuse to take care of any kind of creature, dead or alive. You may not believe me (though I imagine if you know Alex, you will), but he actually makes me kill the bugs and empty fuzzy leftovers into the garbage desposal. I assure you that dealing with the mice will be the same.

*****

Not that you want to read about mice and then read about cookies, so sorry about this. You can come back later to read this part if you want.

When I laid eyes on this recipe for Crispy Salted Oatmeal White Chocolate Cookies, I knew I'd have to make them. However, the recipe calls for flaked sea salt. This is not easy to find. I have found fine, crystallized sea salt. I have found flavored sea salt. I have found sea salt grinders. I have not been able to find it flaked, except online. And if you think $8-10 + shipping is a lot for salt, when you will only use two to three flakes per cookie, I would tend to agree with you.

A Crispy (Unsalted) Oatmeal White Chocolate Cookie sounds delicious, too. So, I decided to go ahead and make them anyway, sans flaked sea salt. (Are you tired of me saying, "sea salt," yet? Sea salt. SEA SALT! SEASALTSEASALTSEASALT!!!!!)

Anyway, they aren't that good. Kind of plain, honestly. And I don't know that the FSS (you're welcome) would have saved them. I mean, the people on that site raved about these cookies, so maybe it would have... Maybe that was just what these cookies needed to pull them out of Blahland and into MmMmMM!land. But now that I've had them this way, it's out of my system, and I'm not so anxious to try it again.

Sickly

Poor little Marley has a parasite. I only just found out yesterday because Alex forgot to bring a stool sample with him when he took her to the vet weeks ago, and then I forgot again until Thursday. I feel sooo guilty that: #1 She has probably been feeling starved since the day we got her, #2 She has also probably been feeling parched, as I was putting up her water between meals (she was drinking rediculous amonts and it was making it hard to house-train her); Now I know that the giardia can cause dehydration.

About a week ago, I noticed that the hair on her face is looking sparse, and more recently I noticed small patches missing from her body. When I went to the vet's office to pick up the meds yesterday, I explained what I saw and asked if it could have to do with the parasite. The lady behind the desk said no, but what do you think? If hair-loss can be caused by lack of nutrients, and a parasite can cause lack of nutrients... wouldn't the two be connected? Actually, I just found a website that said asymmetrical hair loss can be caused by parasites, so pft: Take That, Vet Office Lady.

Anyway, I am hoping that once the meds start to work, her hair will grow back (so I can be right) and she will start to gain some weight (so I won't feel like I'm playing some kind of Flintstone's bony xylaphone every time I pet her stomach).

P.S. on the Vet's Office... When I made her next appointment, I made a request for the vet I wanted. The office lady was not surprised-- apparently "younger clients just don't get Dr. Bitchyvet... but most of the older clients like her a lot." I don't know what that says about her... Maybe we younger pet owners are too sensitive about our pets? Who knows.

Trick or Treat

The whole Fainting at the Secret Restaurant thing left a bunch of people asking me if I am pregnant. I'm not sure why... I've never heard of pregnant women going around fainting all over the place, but that's the first question everyone had anyway, so I guess I'm just out of the loop. Anyway, then there was this whole slip-up where I missed a couple days of the Pill, and so I took the missed ones all in one day along with the one I was supposed to take (not the right thing to do), and that messed up my period, and then I started thinking, Holy shit, what if I really AM pregnant?! But I'm not, so we can all relieve a big sigh of relief there!

Anyway, cheers to Alex for not freaking out when I informed him of the possibility. I mean, he was freaked out, but he didn't freak out. If you can see the difference.

Also, Marley wants to say hi.


I'm not sure why her eyes look all freaky in this picture... I think they don't if you click to enlarge, if you're interested.

I don't remember Coconut being this clumsy and awkward. Maybe because she was never going to get that big, her limbs were more in proportion? Marley has long legs and big paws and she leaps around all the time slamming into walls and furniture and falling so that all four legs are sprawled out. I can't get her to learn "down" because she gets so excited about food that every time I try to lower the treat to the ground, she stands up and jumps around instead of her butt sliding backwards. She doesn't respond to sound aversion like Coconut does, so the whole Shake-a-Can-of-Pennies thing doesn't do anything more than scare the dog who isn't doing anything wrong. She doesn't love the spray bottle, but again, as soon as I take it out, Coconut runs away, tail between the legs, and hides behind a chair. Something else that Coconut is, and Marley is not: a complete sissy.

One Weekend, Two Big Events

When I called my mom Saturday night to tell her I had news, she was pretty sure I was going to tell her I got engaged. What a let down it was to tell her that we adopted another dog... And right now you're probably having the same mental reaction that she had vocally, thinking a big old, "...? ...Oh! ...Um, okay! ... Congratulations?"

So she was sort of a rescue, and I say sort of because it's not like we found her starving on the street or pulled her out of a shelter or anything. In fact, the 8-week-old English Pointer was purchased a week before by Alex's coworker's well-meaning brother who then realized he had no business owning a dog and began looking for someone to take her.

I allowed myself to be "tricked" by Alex, who called me asking if I wanted the new puppy (we've been talking about getting another one), told me she was super cute and trained to the peepee pad, and a light shedder, and would only grow to be about 35lbs. "Why don't you just come down and take a look at her?" he asked me. Of course, you can guess the rest, but I'll tell you anyway:

I took her home that night. It's true, she IS super cute, but she is certainly not reliably trained to the peepee pad (something I learned the hard way when I returned home from work yesterday to poop and pee everywhere), and she will probably be closer to 50 or 60 pounds! I am such a sucka.

As of right now, she doesn't have a permanent name, but I'll keep you posted.

Coconut is slowly adjusting to the situation. She is not quite sure if she likes The Playmate or resents The Stealer of My Humans' Undivided Attention.

*****

On Sunday, we went to a secret restaurant of Alex's mom's birthday. It's not actually a secret, but there's a lot of mystique surrounding the whole thing, and well, I'll just let you read about it here, because that guy does a better job of telling about the place than I will.

Plus, I can only speak to the deliciousness of the bread and the house salad, because right about the time that our entrees came, I got extremely hot, a little dizzy, and when I stood up to walk to the bathroom and splash some water on my face, I passed out!

I don't even really remember what happened... I was jammed in a corner, and I asked A to get up, which meant his mom also had to get up, and when I stood, he looked like he was miles away from me, and next thing I knew, his brother was standing over me asking if I was okay and some doctor from the table next to us was taking my pulse and asking me if this ever happened before (which it has). When I was able to sit up, I was ushered outside where it was cooler, and right about the time I decided I was ready to face the embarassment and reenter the restaurant to taste what was supposed to be one of my best meals ever, Alex's family emerged toting leftovers.

Everyone was all, "Don't be embarassed," and "Don't apologize! I'm just glad you're okay!" But you know. Still embarassed. Still sorry for ruining a delicious dinner.

And also? I'm thinking now that this has happened twice, I should perhaps have myself checked out. It'll have to wait though... my benefits don't kick in until November, and I can't afford the doctor visits.

Growl

I have been quite happy with my vet office since we got Coconut a little over a year ago. I had to take her somewhat often during the first couple of months to get various series of vaccines and whatnot. Since then, since she has stayed healthy (knock on wood), we haven't had to go until today, when she was scheduled for her yearly check-up and rabies shot.

I usually deal with one specific vet. Her name is not the one listed on the sign, so I don't know if she is a recent partner or what, but I really like her. She is nice to my dog and she is patient with my questions. Today, however, we saw the other lady.

I know it's only a vet's office, but her bedside manner definitely left something to be desired.

First, I asked her if I should get Coconut stripped (I read somewhere it keeps their coat healthy) and she actually rolled her eyes at me and said, "I don't care what you do with her-- that's like asking me if you should get your hair cut!" Oooh kaaayy...

Then, she called my dog fat. Again, I know this is a dog we are talking about, so I'm not looking for her to use sensitive phrasing, but she could have said something like, "She is getting a little fat, so you might want to cut back on her food." Instead, it was like, "She is fat! You are feeding her too much! And stop giving her treats!"

Next she called her "bad" because she was squirming when Vet tried to look in her mouth, yelling, "STOP IT! Oh, you are BAD. Sit your fat bum down." I know that a well-trained dog will tolerate prodding by strangers, but she is good for her groomer, and good for her trainer, and really, I think it was just the mean ol' vet who she didn't feel comfortable with.

The last thing I asked her to do was cut Coconut's nails. I thought they seemed long, especially since I haven't been able to get her groomed due to her expired rabies shot. Seems to me that a vet should be able to look at dog nails and say, "Actually, they look okay to me!" But she did not. She cut Coconut's nails, and when she hit the quick and it started bleeding, she glared at me yet again, saying, "There wasn't much to cut off. Don't you like your nails long? Look! It has hurt her!"

I left feeling terrible about my apparently fat, bad, injured dog and my apprently stupid and shallow questions about her well-being.

Coconut was not the only bitch at the vet today.

A Very Interesting Story About Gutters

Since we purchased this house over a year ago, we have come to find that each and every time we want to start a project, we are blocked or thrown off course by a previous owner's half-assed job. I know this tends to be typical when you buy a "fixer upper," but damn, we didn't really think we had much to fix up other than a fresh coat of paint everywhere and some new floors, and even those things have been halted by uneven ground and layer upon layer of wallpaper.

Yesterday I called someone to come clean out our gutters. He arrived today in a big unmarked truck-- an old guy in baggy jeans, a wife-beater, and a dirty, floppy white(ish) hat. The estimate was reasonable, and so I figured the strangeness of it all far outweighed the possibility of having to call another guy and schedule another estimate. Plus this guy could do the work today.

As he inspected the back of my house to make the estimate, he questioned me about a missing endcap and downspout, and which point I shrugged my shoulders and told him he could go ahead and fix that too, if it wasn't too expensive, and it wasn't.

When he was finished the work, he came around to report that the reason for the missing endcap is because when the woodstove (which we hate and want to get rid of because it is big and ugly and we are not Add-wood-Set-fire-Sweep-ashes type of people when we have a perfectly good heater that warms the house just fine, thank you) was installed, they built the chimney right on top of the gutters. When the water, which was supposed to flow to the right, had no where to go, they simply took the endcap off the left side and figured that would be fine, as long as the water had somewhere to go.

I'm pretty sure this is the cause of the cracked cement under where (heh heh... underwear) we usually have a nice waterfall when it rains.

And because I had nothing better to do, I took a picture, along with some others, for your viewing enjoyment:


Click me to see bigger!

Psycho organization of kitchen cabinets as procrastination for job search

Pissed off dog who does NOT want to be in this picture, thankyouverymuch!

Cooking and Dog Stuff

It's no secret that I'm not the best chef. What's really frustrating about it is the fact that I almost always follow a recipe, and things still don't come out great. Sometimes I try to make things without recipes, but that almost always turns out disasterous. But I'm proud of the dinner I made myself tonight. Alex isn't home, so I decided to cook some shrimp. Easy as pie, and totally yummy. Behold:

1/4 lb. linguini

1/2 lb. shrimp

S & P to taste

flour (I used Wegman's Pan Searing Flour- it's just flour with sea salt and white pepper)

oil (I used Wegman's Basting Oil-- it has garlic, thyme, and parsley in it)

1 chopped shallot

minced garlic

a little butter

a little cream

Salt and pepper the shrimp. Toss in flour. Heat oil in pan. Sear shrimp on both sides; remove from pan. Add shallot and garlic, and cook until soft. Add butter and cream. Bring to a simmer for a few minutes. Pour over shrimp and linguini, and mix it all up. Sprinkle with grated parm.

The whole thing probably would have been totally bland if not for the preseasoned oil and flour, but I'll take the help where I can get it. Just knowing what spices to add to what dishes seems to be most of my problem.

Who knows? Maybe this shitty job situation will make me a really good cook! MAYBE I will decide to ditch teaching all together and go to culinary school! Or MAYBE I will still eat more ramen noodles or boxed macaroni and cheese than anything else.

*****

Coconut seems to have developed an obsession with the computer cursor. As I sit here writing this, here is what she is doing:

If I shift my body, she walks around me to the other side. If I sit so the computer screen is facing away from her, she peeks her head around the side. She is relentless, and it drives me crazy! I can't even get away from it if I sit with the computer at the desk, because she jumps up the side of my leg.

At least she doesn't beg for food...

Morning Mutterings

In a strange moment of morning fogginess, I decided that I would smell the mint in my spice rack. You know-- to see if it really smelled like mint. When I opened the container, a couple specks fell into my coffee. They were tiny, and I dunno, I am lazy, and therefore did not remove them.

People-- have you ever had mint coffee???? It is delicious and refreshing and takes some of the bite away from that nasty teacher-coffee-breath I tend to walk around with all day. I think I have innovated something that could catch on here...

*****

The more toys my dog destroys, the more often she is forced to rediscover old toys that she has been ignoring since 8-week-oldness when I first got her. Her most recent find is a super bouncy ball that used to have a string through it for tugging purposes (she has since chewed it off). She is currently (repeatedly) walking around with it in her mouth, dropping it on the floor, and watching it as it bounces a million tiny bounces across the floor, and then pouncing on it. I imagine her inner voice screaching with delight, "again! again!"

*****

Kid-Bit

OCD kid was in the class bathroom the other day for quite awhile. This is somewhat normal for him, as on top of the fact that he has no issues pooping in there, he has also been caught stripped down to his underwear and wifebeater and flexing in the mirror (p.s. this kid is 8 and scrawny-- more the size of a 6 year old), sitting backward on a urinal in the hall bathroom trying to poop, and watching himself "grow," if you will. Anyway, I kept calling to OCDKid while he was in there, "doin alright in there? I hope you're not playing around!" and he sounded like he was okay. But well, when he eventually came out of the bathroom, he was soaking wet from head to toe, and his hair was all spikey wet with several big foamy blobs in it. When questioned, all he would keep saying was, "I forgot to do it last night. I just remembered, I forgot to do it last night. I put in the shampoo, but I forgot to wash it out last night."

So he attempted to wash it out the next day. In school. In the sink that is about 1 foot from the floor.

La la la...

Once again there is a list of unpublished Draft entries sitting on my Dashboard, but whenever I open them up, I just decide they are too boring to publish and anyway there is some crappy reality show on that I need to watch. But now the State of the Union Address is on and damn it, I need to find some way to distract myself lest I punch a hole through our new plasma.

(I wonder if my little brother is sitting in some rec hall watching from Iraq...)

Anyway, I have discovered a new favorite method of cooking, and that, my friends, is the FOIL PACKET!!! Dude, if you put whatever you want to eat in a foil packet, and stick it in the oven, you can have a real-food-meal in like 30 minutes with virtually NO clean-up! Tonight, I cut up the only vegetable we had in the whole house, a green bell pepper, and threw a pre-marinated chicken breast on top, and the result was mmm-mmm-good.

And in even MORE exciting cooking news (did you even consider that there could be something more exciting than chicken and bell pepper in a foil packet?!?!) I came home on Friday to a brand new KitchenAid mixer on my door step, thankyouverymuch,Grandma! I called to thank her, letting her know it was unnecessary, but much appreciated, and she said, "well, I was shopping online, and when I saw it I thought of you... you mentioned that you didn't have a mixer..." (Alex's reaction: "Hm. Yeah, you know what else we don't have? Surround sound speakers. Just mentioning it...") On Saturday, I made real key lime pie with homemade whipped cream, (By the way: NEVER going back to prepackaged...) and on Sunday, Alex made pancakes. Sure, the pie could have been made with my hand mixer, and the pancakes... well you know, a wire whisk always works, but the mixer is fun and makes me feel like I'm hosting my own show on the food network. It would be called, "Hm... It Looked Better on That Other Show."

*****

Kid-Bit

Appropriately, ChowDownKid has taken to saying "Awwwww SNACK!!!" whenever he thinks someone has been told off.

*****

And for lack of anything else to talk about, photos of the dog. You know you want them.


What? You're not into day-old coffee drippings??


Where is it that Garfield always tries to send Nermal?

Itchy

In my last post I mentioned the little skin issue I had been having. The day after I wrote that post, I went out and bought some sensitive skin moisturizing body wash. This consequently gave me hives on top of what was already there.

I took a sick day today so I could get myself to the dermatologist and get all this biz taken care of. The hassle of getting a referral so quickly is a whole other story, of which I will spare you the agonizing details. All you need to know is that my appointment was at 8:30, so technically, I could have just gone into work a little late, but I didn't because I will use the extra time to get some stuff done around the house.

BWAHAHAHAA!!!

Thus far, I have cut the lemon bars I made last night (This recipe put me in the mood, but relax: I actually made these.), and vacuumed the living room.

That didn't last long. (My dog is a slob.) (She takes after me.)

The Bird: A Three Part Saga, and then some more whining

This morning, Coconut stayed outside for an unusual amount of time. I peeked out at her a couple of times, and she seemed to be happily chewing on/tossing in the air/pouncing on a stick, and so I left her out until it was time for me to leave for work. Except when she finally came inside, she brought the "stick" with her. She dropped it, and I realized it was not a stick, but I wasn't sure what it was. I had to corner her, and when she finally dropped it again, I snatched her up and put her in the kitchen while I examined the strange blob.

Then I ran gagging into the kitchen to get something with which to pick up what I could only assume was a bird. It was kinda hard to tell, but I thought I could make out a feather.

The whole thing was so disgusting, but I thought it was over.

It was not.

I came home, let the dog out, went to the bathroom myself, and when I went back downstairs to let her in, she was tossing around a gigantic bird with no head and one wing!!!!! GAH!!! I ran in to get a plastic bag, figuring if I could get her, I'd take the bird with the bag and then just turn it inside out. But Coconut had other plans. Our yard is big, people. There is plenty of room to run away, should you be a dog who doesn't want to give up the best treasure you've ever found, and there are plenty of trees that are in perfect humans-can't-get-me-here! positions close to the fence.

I spent about 5 minutes chasing her around the yard, until I finally called Alex freaking out that our dog was running around with a possibly diseased dead bird whose bone she might chew out and choke on. Then, when she let it go (and I don't know what got her to do that) and went inside, I could not bring myself to pick up the bird. Yes, my hand was in a bag, and my skin would not have made contact with it, but ug! I couldn't bring myself to do it. I kept gagging and thinking about what it would feel like to have the nasty thing in my hand, and screamed in girly disgust (similar to that when I smoosh a bug with a napkin and can feel the crunch underneath) until Alex finally yelled at me to just get the shovel, duh.

I shoveled the bird into the bag, put the bag into an empty shoebox, and put the shoebox into a trashcan outside, with a lid. Thank god that's over, I thought.

But oh, no, there was more to come.

The other wing, to be exact.

Coconut found the other wing; third verse, same as the first. I got her to go inside without it, and was able to get the wing and add it to the bird box in the trash can.

Physically, I think the bird is gone now. But apparently its spirit, or at the very least, its scent, still remains in our yard, because now every time I let the dog out, she runs around with her nose in the grass barking frantically. So frantically, in fact, that I cannot allow her to stay outside for fear of making enemies of my neighbor. This means I have to get her to come inside before she actually goes to the bathroom, which means the whole song and dance happens again 10 minutes later, which believe me, is not long enough for her to forget about the bird and just go outside and take a shit.

Outside barking alternates with time spent standing on the back of the couch, sticking her head between the slats of the hideous vertical blinds and, and barking some more at anything or nothing, but probably mostly reflections of self on the window.

The only way to stop this cycle was to put her in her crate, which I usually only do at night when I'm sleeping. I have since been getting 5 minute intervals of peace and inner-crate digging.

*****

Also? We have no food in this house. We are about a week overdue for grocery shopping, and all that is left is pasta and rice, and the Lean Cuisine I settled on made me gag because I kept thinking about the bird.

*****

And, I have this weird rash on my thighs and my butt.

You're welcome.

It is similar to the rash I get on my hands when they are extremely dry, so when I got home from work I slathered it with Eucerin, but that made it itch even more, so I tried Benadryl cream, which inflamed the whole thing even more and stung so badly that I had to take a shower to wash all the creams off.

Feeling slightly better.

*****

And one more complaint: My house is a mess, and I just don't feel like cleaning it.

(Surprise, surprise.)

Happy Thankspigging

Our First Thanksgiving in the New House turned out well. I don't know what all the hubbub is about-- it wasn't that hard. I guess a lot of prep and cleaning went into it, but when it came down to the cooking, meh. Perhaps if I went more gourmet and less traditional, it would have been more difficult. Oh and also if I had cooked the turkey myself, if my parents hadn't brought two of the side dishes, and if Alex's mom hadn't brought the desserts.

Like I mentioned, I purchased it pre-cooked from Wegmans (love), but it still needed two hours in the oven to heat up. End result: It tasted like turkey. I'm not a huge turkey fan, and no one else I know is, either. I've had brined turkey, seasoned and herbed turkey, roasted turkey, injected turkey, fragrant turkey... they all kinda just taste like turkey to me. I just think turkey is turkey. And, since my dad was the only one who ate dark meat, and he prefers beef anyway, I decided that next year I will just cook a turkey breast and prime rib. Cheers for new traditions!

*****

I have already had my fill of leftovers, and it's only Day 2 post-TG. Yesterday's Menu featured Italian bread French toast with homemade cranberry sauce topping for breakfast, a leftover sandwich for lunch, and turkey croquets with a mashed potato casserole for dinner. I had a leftover canoli and some brie with crackers for breakfast this morning. I keep thinking I should make a soup or something, but as I hardly cook, I do not have a stocked pantry, and therefore would have to go to the store and buy food to cook leftovers... I dunno... seems to defeat the purpose to me.



*****

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for!!!

More pictures of Coconut!


"She don't eat meat, but she sho likes da bone! RUFF!"


Jail Dog


Apparently humans aren't the only ones to enter a Thanksgiving coma...

Sock Soup

Coconut was spayed on Thursday, and you'd never know it based on how she's been running around. Alex's dad and brother were over on Sunday night, and they had her zipping in circles around the yard. I warned Alex that the vet said she shouldn't be running like that, and that she is supposed to be on a leash at all times outside for the next two weeks, but his response was, "Look at her! She feels fine!"

Monday morning, she woke up with a huge knot behind her incision. I called the vet's office last night, and the receptionist told me to put warm compresses on it for 10-minute intervals, and to call back to schedule an appointment if it doesn't go down. Anyway, I tried. I couldn't find any clean washcloths, so I took an old sock, soaked it, dropped it in a pyrex measuring cup, and threw it in the microwave. However, what the receptionist didn't tell me was how to get a 5-1/2 month old terrier to sit still for 10 minutes while attempting to hold a warm compress on her shaved belly. If you have suggestions other than, "hand-feed her treats for the entire 10 minutes," they are welcome.

*****

It's no secret: I don't really cook. Occasionally I will run across a recipe that seems like it might be worth its while, and of those occasions, even fewer result in actual This-Was-Worth-It cooking. Most of my dinners (I eat alone except for about twice a week) are comprised of pasta or boil-in-bag rice and some sort of once-frozen protein (tonight: rice and Archer Farms garlic & herb shrimp), or a long list of unhealthy snack foods that eventually result in me not really being hungry enough to cook a meal (last night: string cheese, orange cranberry muffin, Halloween candy, a couple bites of leftover and probably-not-good-anymore lo mein, Finding Nemo fruit snacks).

My classroom aide is about my mom's age. However, while my mom was growing up in a household with two working parents and either cooking dinner for her family or fending for herself, my aide was growing up in a house with 9 siblings and a mom whose sole purpose was to "make home" for her family. There is definitely nothing wrong with either scenario, but I think the difference just helps to explain why I prefer Easy, and my aide prefers Less Expensive. And also why she still does her 25-year-old son's laundry, but whatever.

That said, she gives me a very hard time about my pre-cooked, pre-prepared (er, I guess the "pre" is already in the "prepared," but you know what I mean) preferences. When I mentioned that I might buy a precooked turkey for thanksgiving, she said, "why doesn't that surprise me?" And then tried to argue with me about how much better home-cooked turkey would be. (To which I responded 1. The side dishes are the main event anyway, and 2. My family ate Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant last year because there were so few of us, so what's the difference?)

I guess my point is, why "slave away in the kitchen?" If you think of it as slaving, then you are not having fun. If you enjoy it, then by all means, go for it (and then invite me over)! But if I want to spend more on precooked bacon because I value my time (time that will not be spent standing in front of a popping, messy skillet, and then having to clean up the greasy mess later) more than my money, whose business is it to judge me?

*****

While reading another blog, I was pointed in the direction of this site, which I find "hilarious." It makes me want to put quotes around "everything." Also, it "inspired" me to buy "this book." I am "enjoying" it thoroughly, and also using it to procrastinate reading Pride & Prejudice for book club. I am not "proud" to admit, I have a "prejudice" against the "classics." Oooh that was painful.

Urinetown

Hey! What did you do when you got home from work today? Wanna know what I did? Okay, I'll tell you!

I chased my dog around with an empty margarine container in an attempt to collect a urine sample.

Oh, we are so glamorous here at the Frizz Household!

The venture was successful, but I can't help looking at the container (which, incidentally, I wiped down with a Clorox Wipe, wrapped in masking tape, and sealed in a gallon baggie, lest it want to pop open during the ride to the vet), thinking, I Can't Believe It's Not Butter! Heh! It's NOT butter!! Bwahahahahaa!! Oh, I crack myself up, I do.

*****

A few weeks after I moved here, I received a traffic ticket for going straight in a turn-only lane. In my defense, when I got into the turn-only lane, the sign was blocked by a tree, and by the time it became visible to me, no one would let me over into the straight lane. But blah-blah-blah, jerky cop gave me a ticket. When I received the notice for the court date in the mail, it turned out to be for 1 in the afternoon, October 31.

Then, to make a boring story longer and more boring, I kept forgetting to call to reschedule, until today. The lady asked me why I wanted to reschedule, which I was expecting, and I was all, "uh, well, it's Halloween and my students have a Halloween parade." To which she replied, "If I can't go to a Halloween party, neither can you!" So then I got even more nervous, and came back with a, "Well, I don't want to go to the parade, exactly, it's just that it is a school day and um, well my principal won't be very happy with me."

She asked me a couple questions, like where I taught and if they really have a Halloween parade, and I assured her that I teach behaviorally disabled students who are hyper on a regular day, and that it would be just plain cruel to leave a sub with them on a day when they are especially packed with sugar and stimuli.

Soooo... woot! She changed my court date, and was even nice enough to give me an evening appointment that isn't until January!! Woohoo! Christmas gifts for all!

*****

ChowDownKid has taken notice of the Lean Cuisines I carry with me down to the lunchroom almost every day. A couple days ago, he tried to insult me by whining, "You eat frozen food from a box!" To which I replied, "Yup. I do." CDK: "Yeah! They're frozen! From a box!" Me: "Yeah. I like them."

He seemed defeated at the time, because his insult didn't take, but now every once in awhile he'll summon me, "Yo! Frozen Food!"

I guess when the alternative is Tyrannical Bitch, Frozen Food isn't such a bad nick name.

*****

Now, it's time to leave for the vet, urine sample and all.