Is us! Someone give me the details on the Canby show (where, and ring times). We'll be in town next week. Can't wait to see you all.
PS: Nobody call Coal fat in front of my aunt. He's beautiful and it's muscle.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Introducing our new puppy...
I'm half afraid this kid is growing up thinking she's a dog.
"Ba ba ba ba ba!"
Monday, May 23, 2011
Missing Cosmo
We're having a rough dog year. Last night Cosmo was taken to the emergency vet with what I thought was an obstruction, but he ended up having a tumor on his spleen, which was filling his abdomen with blood. The prognosis was dismal, so we made him comfortable for the night, and brought him home to say our goodbyes. This morning he said goodbye to a tearful Quinn, his boy who he chose so long ago by nearly crawling into the pocket of the camo pants that matched him so perfectly. I wish we'd had more time so Quinn could have said better goodbyes. Then, in true Cosmo form, he patiently let the baby bury her head and kiss him even though he probably wasn't very comfortable. He perked up for Cheerios under the high chair, then we went for a nice romp at the neighborhood park before heading to the vet. He went very peacefully, though it did take a little longer than most. I don't think he wanted to go. I felt very at peace after he went, though, and I think his spirit was hanging around for a while. His body gave out and didn't give us the time we deserved with him. He would have been 7 this summer. This isn't at all what I was expecting.
He was meant to be ours from the start... and thank goodness that nut never dropped, so he was! I wish I could find some of the old pictures, especially the ones in the park where Carolyn and Tom met us on Quinn's birthday (a secret up until the last minute when the trunk popped open and out bounced that little Corgi).
The house feels pretty empty. Losing Cosmo is surreal. We should have had another 7 years with him. At what point do you sweep up the fluff, clean the smudge on the wall (where he would lay upside down and rub dirt), or move the kennel? I guess we'll play this one by ear.
He was meant to be ours from the start... and thank goodness that nut never dropped, so he was! I wish I could find some of the old pictures, especially the ones in the park where Carolyn and Tom met us on Quinn's birthday (a secret up until the last minute when the trunk popped open and out bounced that little Corgi).
The house feels pretty empty. Losing Cosmo is surreal. We should have had another 7 years with him. At what point do you sweep up the fluff, clean the smudge on the wall (where he would lay upside down and rub dirt), or move the kennel? I guess we'll play this one by ear.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Quinn can drive!
Today we got Quinn's permit! It's been an ordeal- he has had 2 name changes in his life so none of his documents match, and every time we went to the DPS they turned us away. Today we had our crap together, though (complete with certified name change docs from 2 different counties that we had to snail mail request) and we ALMOST got turned away again, but I stood firm and we got the permit. Quinn's not a bad driver, and we picked out a little 1998 Camry for him a few weeks ago. He goes in for his license on the 30th of this month. Watch out crazy Texas drivers!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Has Anyone Used...
The Furminator? For 60 bucks I need some honest reviews before I buy this thing. I'm neck deep in Cardi hair. Oh yeah... and Heeler hair.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
I Skipped the Marshmallow Dream Bar
Most days I really like my job, and they say you shouldn't put anything on the internet that you wouldn't want to see plastered on a billboard the next day, so thank goodness my blog is blocked from Google search.
Today I skipped the Marshmallow Dream Bar on my trip to Starbucks. This is a big step for me, as I am more addicted to the Dream Bar than I am to the ventifatfreeskinnyvanillalatte that turns my tongue yellow because of it's radioactive sugar substitute. Why did I skip the Dream Bar, you ask? Because my boss said I am fat.
Yes, fat. Packing on the extra pounds. Thick around the middle. Climbing the charts in jeans sizes. Obsese, my friends. I would love to argue with her, but I can see the scale quake as I walk towards it, and sometimes the toilet shakes when I sit down. I'm a bonafide chunky monkey, weighing in at (dare I say it publicly?) 203 pounds. Gasp.
I like my sweets and it's written in my genetic code. My grandma used to lock herself in her bedroom and eat truffles while she read romance novels. I like Dream Bars, truffles, cookies, candies, cakes... I actually eat about half sweets and half real food in a regular day. It's a huge stress reliever, and it tastes good!
Back to the boss, though. We're in my review talking about my expanding role with the firm and the raise I am about to get, and everything is going swimmingly until we get to the areas for improvement part. Boss says she would like me to work on being healthier. What?!?!?!??! "You give good phone," she says. You give good phone. You give good phone. I'm still going to be hearing that in my head when I'm 80. Then she went on to say that if I was "healthier" and "fit" I would exude confidence and happiness and then they would have me meet with clients... but at this point I "cannot be presented."
I guess I could cry, or look for a new job, or eat some damned truffles while I rot behind my desk. It's the sick unspoken law that my mother always told me: certain jobs require certain looks, employers do discriminate, and you have to play the game. I'm drawn to "sexy" industries and client facing roles, so I have to look the part. I learned it at 21 years old when the brokerage firm where I worked was interviewing for a new broker. "Too old," "too fat," "too ugly," I heard as one after another paraded through the door. Maybe I should thank my current boss for giving me the reminder, however rude, obnoxious and inappropriate it was to say. I'm also not too proud to say that I would like to be a little healthier so I can run around after Matilda without getting winded and not feel so uncomfortable in my expanding skin.
So, my "things to work on" for the next 90 days (at which point I actually get another review) are:
1. Being as "healthy" as possible
2. Buying the most expensive suit I can afford (after completion of goal #1)
3. Writing (even though most of her emails are incomprehensible *I* have to work on *MY* writing... but THAT is another blog).
Today I skipped the Marshmallow Dream Bar on my trip to Starbucks. This is a big step for me, as I am more addicted to the Dream Bar than I am to the ventifatfreeskinnyvanillalatte that turns my tongue yellow because of it's radioactive sugar substitute. Why did I skip the Dream Bar, you ask? Because my boss said I am fat.
Yes, fat. Packing on the extra pounds. Thick around the middle. Climbing the charts in jeans sizes. Obsese, my friends. I would love to argue with her, but I can see the scale quake as I walk towards it, and sometimes the toilet shakes when I sit down. I'm a bonafide chunky monkey, weighing in at (dare I say it publicly?) 203 pounds. Gasp.
I like my sweets and it's written in my genetic code. My grandma used to lock herself in her bedroom and eat truffles while she read romance novels. I like Dream Bars, truffles, cookies, candies, cakes... I actually eat about half sweets and half real food in a regular day. It's a huge stress reliever, and it tastes good!
Back to the boss, though. We're in my review talking about my expanding role with the firm and the raise I am about to get, and everything is going swimmingly until we get to the areas for improvement part. Boss says she would like me to work on being healthier. What?!?!?!??! "You give good phone," she says. You give good phone. You give good phone. I'm still going to be hearing that in my head when I'm 80. Then she went on to say that if I was "healthier" and "fit" I would exude confidence and happiness and then they would have me meet with clients... but at this point I "cannot be presented."
I guess I could cry, or look for a new job, or eat some damned truffles while I rot behind my desk. It's the sick unspoken law that my mother always told me: certain jobs require certain looks, employers do discriminate, and you have to play the game. I'm drawn to "sexy" industries and client facing roles, so I have to look the part. I learned it at 21 years old when the brokerage firm where I worked was interviewing for a new broker. "Too old," "too fat," "too ugly," I heard as one after another paraded through the door. Maybe I should thank my current boss for giving me the reminder, however rude, obnoxious and inappropriate it was to say. I'm also not too proud to say that I would like to be a little healthier so I can run around after Matilda without getting winded and not feel so uncomfortable in my expanding skin.
So, my "things to work on" for the next 90 days (at which point I actually get another review) are:
1. Being as "healthy" as possible
2. Buying the most expensive suit I can afford (after completion of goal #1)
3. Writing (even though most of her emails are incomprehensible *I* have to work on *MY* writing... but THAT is another blog).
Blog, How I've Missed Thee
Life the past few months has swallowed me whole. I work from 9-6 and my commute starts at 7:30am taking Matilda to Grandma's. Often Jeff is out of town and I go back to Grandma's to pick her up after work, and wind up getting home at 8pm. If Jeff is in town I get home at 6:30 (except during the toll tag debacle, which is another blog entirely) and we try to piece together some semblance of a family evening before bed time.
No, this is not a New Year's resolution to get back into blogging. I just miss you guys! I've managed to negotiate two days a week working from home beginning January 1 (for sanity's sake) so I hope to get back to blogging with some of my extra time. The blog is so theraputic, as an outlet and a way to connect with my friends far away. Faebook helps some, but nothing can replace the blog.
No, this is not a New Year's resolution to get back into blogging. I just miss you guys! I've managed to negotiate two days a week working from home beginning January 1 (for sanity's sake) so I hope to get back to blogging with some of my extra time. The blog is so theraputic, as an outlet and a way to connect with my friends far away. Faebook helps some, but nothing can replace the blog.
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