I fancy myself an intrepid, if boozy, anthropologist.

Welcome Home, Bonny!

Great news on the animal front!

Patient dog. Very patient dog.

Since Potential Puppy was being fostered at a rescue where I happen to have friends, we were able to act pretty quickly.  We ended up having her delivered yesterday, which was pretty awesome!  Talk about service!  My mom was kind enough to hang out at the house while she got acquainted with our other dog.  Absolutely no issues whatsoever.  Hurdle #1 cleared!

Then Pool Boy got home.  Franny is DEFINITELY Pool Boy’s dog, so I was a little concerned she’d go in to jealousy mode once he got home, but still no issues.  Hurdle #2 cleared!

From there mom and Pool Boy went to fetch Donovan.  This was my biggest concern.  Would Franny get over-protective?  Would Potential Puppy hide from Donovan (or worse??)

Why does my hand look like that of a 70 yr old woman?

I got home probably 5 minutes after they arrived with Donovan and they were one big happy family.  Donovan was ecstatic.  ECSTATIC I tell you.  I thought his little toddler head was going to explode.  Two dogs??  TWO DOGS???  Especially since she’s nearly identical to Franny.  It was like we took his favorite thing on the planet and cloned it.  Potential Puppy was awesome.  She let Donovan pet her and cuddle her and wallow around on her and didn’t seem to mind a bit.  Hurdle #3 cleared!

Our last concern was how she would be on walks with Franny.  Would they fight?  Would she be aggressive with other dogs while outside and/or on a leash?  So, off we went.  Once again it couldn’t have gone better!!  Finally, hurdle #4 cleared.  By the time we went to bed last night I had texted the rescue to say she was definitely coming to live with us.

New Cocker on the left, existing Fat Ass Cocker on the right.

There’s a small part of me that feels guilty… like maybe Tres deserves to be mourned for longer and that maybe I’m not honoring his memory by “replacing” him so quickly.  But I could never replace him, and Tres wouldn’t want me to be sad forever.  Plus, I think he’d be happy that another sweet “special needs” animal (whose odds of getting adopted weren’t stellar) had found a good home.

The text from her www.petfinder.com page said:

What a precious face… Miss Cyrus is a wiggle butt lover! Cyrus was left at the pound by her prior owner. When we saw her sweet face and felt her snuggle against our legs, we knew she needed to come with us! Cyrus was taken to the vet where her medical conditions were evaluated. In subsequent months, Cyrus has had to have one eye removed due to injury, a mammory cyst removed and has endured heartworm treatment. Thru it all; this gal has maintaned her love for life and her sweet and gentle natured personailty. Now Miss Cyrus has a new and improved healthy body to go with her sweet sweet waggy gal smile. Cyrus is ready for a new home. She is happy, healthy and ready to share all her love with a new human, She is spayed, current on shots, on heartworm prevention and is microchipped. She has a new lease on life and would love to share it with you.

How could we NOT adopt her??  Also, if you haven’t checked out Petfinder.com yet, I highly recommend you have a look next time you’re looking for a new pet!  It’s like Match.com for animals that need homes.  If you’re only looking for a purebred, still have a look.  A shocking number of purebreds end up in the pound (our 2 Cocker’s, for example).

I’ve renamed her Bonny (since she only has one eye, I thought I’d go with a “pirate” themed name).  She’s settled right in like she’s been here forever.  She has her favorite chair, she sleeps with me at night, and she follows me wherever I go… which is awesome.  I’m so happy to have her, and she seems pretty happy to have me too!

See? She's clearly thrilled.

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So…. my cat died on Sunday.  I know not everyone sees pets in the same way, but this is beyond devastating to me.  When our over-religious neighbors showed up on our doorstep to tell me they had found my cat and he had”passed away” probably ranks up there with the worst moments in my life, and I’m being TOTALLY honest.  I guess he was feeling brave and decided to use the dog door, an unlikely scenario I had nonetheless prepared for.  Our backyard is a FORTRESS.  I made sure of it.  How he got out will probably remain a mystery, unfortunately.

Tres was with me before Pool Boy.  Before Donovan.  Before this new house, before Chicago…. Tres was my ally for years and years and years.

The dog basically belongs to David, despite my best efforts at bribery.  (How many walks and Milk Bones does it take to win the loyalty of a freaking Cocker Spaniel???)  For whatever reason, the kid does too recently.  Donovan will be all wrapped around his daddy and I’ll ask “Can I have a hug, buddy?” and he’ll say “no!  no!  no!!!”  not in a defiant way, but more in a “please for the love of God don’t hurt me!!” type way.  He looks terrified of me!  And I’m the really patient/cuddly one!

But Tres was always on my side.  When Donovan would wake up in the middle of the night, Pool Boy and the dog would sleep through it, but Tres and I would get up.  He’d meow at me when I got up and follow me to go tend to Donovan.  Those times are the most sad now.  Times when I used to have my buddy and now I’m alone.

On the “bright side”, if there is one, Tres was a “special needs cat” and I gave him a very good home.  I realized years ago that people don’t tend to adopt the animals with deformities or injuries (Tres was missing a leg, hence the name.  Uno, Dos, Tres.)  It’s silly really that people care SO much about the appearance of their pets.  The “special needs” pets are the sweetest, in my experience.  I haven’t owned a “normal” animal since my teenage years.

With that said, we’d been planning to get another dog for a while.  Ironically, I recognized how completely devistated we would one day be when Franny (our current dog) died, and I knew we wouldn’t have the heart to get another one after she passed, so I wanted to get one now even though Franny’s still pretty young.  I can never be without a pet!

Since I’m sort of left all alone now, the odd man out from the Pool Boy-Baby-Dog club, I’ve decided that I’M going to get a dog now.  Nothing could ever replace sweet Tres, but it’s just so lonely recently.

Then a friend of mine called – their rescue has a one-eyed Cocker Spaniel.  She looks JUST like the dog we have, only she’s missing her left eye.  We still have a few hurdles to cross – how will she get along with the Cocker spaniel we already have?  How will she deal with Donovan?  She’s coming over to meet us tomorrow.  I really hope things work out…

 The rescue said she’s just the sweetest dog in the world, but she’s fallen victim to “black dog” syndrome.  For whatever reason, black dogs tend to get overlooked at adopt-a-pet’s.  Especially one-eyed black dogs.  I’m an emotional mess, and I’m falling a little bit in love with her just looking at her picture.  She looks like she needs me as much as I need her.

However, if all goes well and we adopt her and she also decides that Pool Boy is the only human in the house worth knowing, I’ll REALLY be upset.  I plan to keep him completely away from her for at least the first month.  MY DOG, DAMMIT!

Wish me luck, everyone.

 

This week marked my reluctant entrance in to the world of cloth diapers.

Not REAL cloth diapers with safety pins and all that, but the modern day ones that don’t require a degree in geometry to fold properly.  The ones with built in elastic and snaps at the waist.

There’s nothing about me that’s hippie or granola or even remotely environmentally friendly to be honest, so I never thought I’d be ordering something called “hemp inserts”… but desperate times, my friends.

random water buffalo.

Probably 4 months ago we started having issues with Donovan soaking through his diaper at night.  Turns out that he, like me, has the bladder of a water buffalo.  This means he’ll be handy on road trips when he’s older, but in the meantime it just amounts to washing lots of sheets.  We tried going up a size in diapers, trying 2 different “overnight” varieties, we tried the “pull up” ones meant for older kids (they fit him fine) but NOTHING was working.

In researching online someone suggested cloth diapers because you could just double the inserts and *poof!* no more puddles.  The online world of cloth diapers is a dark and scary one, filled with too-many options and what I believe to be some sort of secret code.  I finally just picked a “value pack” from FuzziBunz and hoped for the best.  Some value tho, those bad boys are FREAKING EXPENSIVE.

At any rate, I waited and waited and waited but they never came.  Eventually I called the company for a refund, which they promptly gave me.  A week or so after that, my massive package of diapers came.  I called the company to get a shipping label to return them, but I never got one, so I tossed the package in my trunk and forgot about them until last weekend when I decided “what the hell, I’m down with free diapers”.

Is this where I'm supposed to put the diaper? Something doesn't look right...

What I learned:

  1. Pool Boy is sort of “waiting this one out” and clearly sees it as just another of his wife’s crazy ideas.
  2. Once you utter the phrase “just dump the solids out in the toilet” to your husband, you’re totally alone in diaper-duty from that point forward.
  3. They’re cute enough that he can roam around the house in just his diaper without being called “white trash baby” by my sister.
  4. They actually work well as overnight diapers!
  5. They also work as hats.
  6. You’d think they’d be all gross and stained after the first use, but they come out looking brand new after every wash.
  7. Whatever you do, for the love of God and all things holy, don’t use fabric softener on them.  Apparently that’s their kryptonite.
  8. Knowing that I’m doing slightly less damage to the environment than usual is a nice feeling.
  9. So is saving money every time I use one instead of a disposable.
  10. The most important thing:  They allow you to coordinate your child with your decor.  And isn’t that what we all look for in a diaper?
  • I actually lost some weight last week, in spite of the booze & BBQ-filled weekend I had.  Go Weight Watchers, go!  I also online-friended my buddy Nicole up in Detroit who is doing WW with me.  I’m not sure what being WW friends does for us, but I hope it sends her messages each week that say something like “Hi Nicole!  We noticed your friend Sarah gained 2 lbs last week.  Why don’t you pop over to her page and call her a fatass to help keep her motivated?”  That would be HILARIOUS, but I doubt that’s a function of the program somehow.  Nicole would totally do it, though.
  • I am now friends with Nicole on Facebook, Google +, Pinterest, Weight Watchers, the Andriod Chat thingy we have on our phones and possibly Spotify and/or Twitter… it’s a little absurd to be honest.  I belong to too many “things”.  Just show me a bandwagon and I’ll jump right on.
  • Pool Boy has just accepted a job with a major Video Game company.  This means that he now has an endless supply of free video games and I have an endless supply of free high-tech toys given that I work for a toy/robotics company.  I feel this has increased our geek-quotient exponentially.  Excellent.  I feel this has also increased the chances that Donovan will be SPOILED-SPOILED-SPOILED when he grows up if we’re not careful.
  • The Booze Cruise was fun, but I’m starting to feel really old on trips like that despite being one of the youngest people there.  As much as I love to drink (and believe you me… I do love to drink) I don’t like getting drunk.  I also don’t particularly like drunk people.
  • The high point of the booze cruise was when our sexy-yet-ditzy driver was supposed to pick us up at the dock.  This is a TINY marina that should be impossible to get lost in.  In theory, it should also have been easy to spot the 4 of us sitting alone in the middle of an empty parking lot on top of our coolers.  After about 30 minutes of trying to figure out where the hell he was, Pool Boy took off on foot to try and find him and guide him back to us.
             Driver:  I’m at the gate but it’s locked up.
             Me:  Then you’re at the wrong gate.
             Driver:  But this is where Sarah told me to go!
             Me:  … but I’m Sarah.
             Driver:  Are you on a boat?
             Me:   No…?
             Driver:  I can see boats from here.
             Me:  Yes.  This is a marina.  That doesn’t help us any.
             Driver:  Oh wait, we’re good!  John is here!
             Me:  Who the hell is John?
             Driver:  Sarah’s Husband!
             Me:  Ok… Again, I’M SARAH.  Also, my husband’s name isn’t John.
This is funny because we use this guy ALL THE TIME.  We all know each other really well.  We’re even Facebook friends at this point.

A couple of months ago, my mom found “some children’s chairs” at Goodwill for $2 a piece, so she called and asked if I wanted them for Dono.  “Sure!” I said.  If there’s one thing kids love, its small versions of grown-up things.

Note to self: In the future, ask mom to quantify "a few".

A few days later, mom shows up at my house, her SUV cram-packed with small wooden chairs.

My first thought was “how am I going to explain ALL these tiny chairs too Pool Boy?”  Fortunately he quit looking for explanations years ago and just rolls with it now.

7 of the chairs are identical and 2 are slightly “fancier”.  I immediately invisioned having all of the major holidays at our house, complete with a proper children’s table including these adorable little chairs.    To be fair, PB does have a massive family with several children under the age of 4, so there’s a good chance these chairs will be actually put to use at least a few times.

"We've had a hard life."

The only problem is that they weren’t in great shape.  They had  belonged to some school where they were apparently used and abused for years.  Still, once the screws were tightned they were sturdy enough to easily hold me and/or PB, so the only thing left to do was cover up their battle scars. 

In an effort to NOT spend tons of money on $2 chairs which will likely be used a few times at most, I started looking around the house.  I had navy paint left over from my dumpster-desk project and 2 other shades of blue left from the bathroom spruce up.  My first thought was to paint each chair a solid color, but then I decided they might look a little disjointed all sitting together.  So instead, I decided to colorblock them and mix up which colors went where with each chair.  That way they will coordinate but not be too matchy-matchy.  I think the final result is sort of Ralph Lauren-esque, if RL made tiny little chairs!

1.  My husbands benefits from me being on weight watchers in that I occasionally cook dinner now!  Well, sort of benefits.

2.  Apparently healthy food (or possibly my cooking) makes my husband violently ill.  Get better soon, Pool Boy.

3.  Toddlers + slides = static

"OH MY GOD THIS IS AWESOME!!!!!!"

4.  My boss has never seen Office Space, therefore he doesn’t understand why I cringe everytime he says “That would be great.”  He also probably doesn’t understand why people keep stealing my red swingline stapeler.

5.  While I am generally amazed at what my son can understand, apparently the phrase “careful, that’s heavy” is not among those he’s grasped.

Unfortunately, the banana was a casualty in this little incident.

6.  In discussing our pasts, I learned I am apparently the only person in the whole office (male or female) who has never been in a physical fight.  Hearing the ladies get all in to these stories about knocking another girl’s teeth out has made me a little afraid.

7.  Cocker Spaniels and  Toddlers are equally interested in tennis balls.  They’re also surprisingly equally matched in terms of fighting over said tennis ball.

8.  Everyone at work that’s all decked out in camo is not wearing it for a fashion statement, which is a relief I suppose… rather everyone is getting up early to go hunting and coming in to work afterwards.  (Insert “Deliverance” theme here)

9.  “I have to take off early today – I have a booze cruise tonight” is apparently an acceptable excuse for leaving work early.

10.  Since BBC1 is no longer available on my Sirius radio, I have tried listening to Cosmo radio.  This week I learned that is NOT an option.  My brain cells die a little each time I tune in.  I think I would fare better drinking ACTUAL Cosmo’s on my way to work.

What did YOU learn this week?

Halloween is quickly upon is, it would seem!  (Have you been out in stores lately??)  As most of you know, Halloween is the bane of my existance.

This year might be different, to be fair, since I have a son I can maybe take trick-or-treating, which would be AWESOME.  (Halloween as a kid = fun!  Halloween as a single adult = annoying.  Halloween as a mom = potentially fun again)  But since I was too old to Trick-or-Treat myself, it has hands-down be my least favorite holiday.  The reason?  The costumes.  Women’s costumes, to be specific.

Nuns: Also not sexy.

“I’m a sexy kitty!”  “I’m a sexy Minnie Mouse!”  “I’m a sexy girl scout!”  Ladies:  Cats are not sexy.  If your man finds cats sexy, you might want to re-evaluate your relationship.  Minnie Mouse?  Also not sexy.  Girl scouts???  Seriously.  That’s just creepy.

Sure, some women put actual thought in to their costumes and come up with something original, but it seems like the vast majority of women just dress up like floozies and try to pretend their costume is clever.

The best example of this would be from several years ago when my (then) boyfriend’s best friend was dating a girl that wore her Christmas lingere out on the town and claimed she was Santa for Halloween.  First off, that’s the wrong holiday, you dingbat.  Secondly, that’s not a costume, it’s underwear.  Thirdly (is that a word?) Santa is a man.  Fourthly (now I’m blatantly just making up words) – the maribu trim across the top of your panties makes it look like you have a giant white bush.  Not good.

The thing is, if women would just SAY “I’m going out in my underwear because it’s the one night of the year where I can dress like a total prostitute and no one will judge me!!” then I would totally be cool with that!  I (of all people) am not one to judge ANY level of sluttiness.

Own it ladies!  Go ahead and slut it up!  Just don’t try and convince me you’re supposed to be a cat.