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Now is the time to donate. Let your support be known.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
From Looky Daddy
Now is the time to donate. Let your support be known.
Now is the time to donate. Let your support be known.
Bad Dog
Bad Dog. That's what I have now. Apparently, it's "normal" for a dog's hormones to surge right now, which causes him to regress and ignore a lot of his learned behavior. Let me tell you. It's not normal in my book to get up with the naughty pooch, feed him, let him out, encourage him to do his business and have him turn around and run into your living room to violate it in ways that Britney Spears would even cringe.
He spent most of Sunday humping his dog bed. Matt and I would nervously giggle as the girls would exclaim "Look! Goerge is playing choo choo train with his bed!"
Oh yes, my friend. The scissors are coming. The scissors ARE coming.
The other night, my friend was over and we were assembling 1000 ladybug invitations. She asked me to change it to a cable music station, and remembering her tastes from college, I picked the one with the 80's hair bands. We're cutting away, when suddenly we hear growls coming from under the table.
"What's the matter buddy?" I ask the seemingly sleeping dog under the table.
"He must be dreaming." my friend adds.
He wasn't dreaming. Ten minutes later after a chorus of growls, bared teeth and raised haunches, we figured out George was watching the pictures of the hair bands on the tv, and is not a fan of tight leather pants or men using hair spray.
Sigh. I hope I can survive until his next vet appointment.
He spent most of Sunday humping his dog bed. Matt and I would nervously giggle as the girls would exclaim "Look! Goerge is playing choo choo train with his bed!"
Oh yes, my friend. The scissors are coming. The scissors ARE coming.
The other night, my friend was over and we were assembling 1000 ladybug invitations. She asked me to change it to a cable music station, and remembering her tastes from college, I picked the one with the 80's hair bands. We're cutting away, when suddenly we hear growls coming from under the table.
"What's the matter buddy?" I ask the seemingly sleeping dog under the table.
"He must be dreaming." my friend adds.
He wasn't dreaming. Ten minutes later after a chorus of growls, bared teeth and raised haunches, we figured out George was watching the pictures of the hair bands on the tv, and is not a fan of tight leather pants or men using hair spray.
Sigh. I hope I can survive until his next vet appointment.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Fairy Tales
Reconnecting with old friends has been one of the best parts of moving back to California. Last night, I solicited the help of an old college buddy to help me assemble 10,000 ladybug birthday invitations for my girls' upcoming shindig. I went to college with this buddy, and in most ways she hasn't changed.
We met in a Scandinavian Literature class at UCLA- and after studying together for a couple of afternoons, we were walking through campus together.
"You're a bit of a princess, aren't you?" I asked her.
"Excuse me?" she says, shooting me a dirty look.
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm one too!" I say.
"Oh, great!" she gushes. "I'm the biggest princess you'll ever meet."
And with that, our friendship began. This said friend, I should really mention, is drop dead gorgeous. She's six feet tall, her mother is from Norway, and whenever we went to Strattons (local UCLA bar) and I was low on cash and sadly in need of a drink, I would ask my friend to casually do a "bar lap" and walk around until someone sent her a drink. (which she then graciously passed to me). I never went thirsty for longer than 3 minutes.
Last night, my girlfriend came over, and my girls fought over who got to sit next to her at dinner. We giggled about how different our lives are, but how much fun we can still have together. She has a very high profile job- and was constructing a ten million dollar deal before she came over to our house. I was cleaning up dog pee. She carries an uber expensive designer handbag, and everything is perfectly organized. I carry a backpack that is crammed full of coupons, doctor receipts, miscellaneous toys and maybe a stray penny or two.
It's a cool friendship, because we get to live vicariously through one another. I get to hear all about her getting picked up on by a professional football player on a flight from Phoenix. She gets to help put my daughters to bed and hear what they are thankful for. And 14 years after that fateful Scandinavian Lit class, we are still princesses- with very different outcomes.
We met in a Scandinavian Literature class at UCLA- and after studying together for a couple of afternoons, we were walking through campus together.
"You're a bit of a princess, aren't you?" I asked her.
"Excuse me?" she says, shooting me a dirty look.
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm one too!" I say.
"Oh, great!" she gushes. "I'm the biggest princess you'll ever meet."
And with that, our friendship began. This said friend, I should really mention, is drop dead gorgeous. She's six feet tall, her mother is from Norway, and whenever we went to Strattons (local UCLA bar) and I was low on cash and sadly in need of a drink, I would ask my friend to casually do a "bar lap" and walk around until someone sent her a drink. (which she then graciously passed to me). I never went thirsty for longer than 3 minutes.
Last night, my girlfriend came over, and my girls fought over who got to sit next to her at dinner. We giggled about how different our lives are, but how much fun we can still have together. She has a very high profile job- and was constructing a ten million dollar deal before she came over to our house. I was cleaning up dog pee. She carries an uber expensive designer handbag, and everything is perfectly organized. I carry a backpack that is crammed full of coupons, doctor receipts, miscellaneous toys and maybe a stray penny or two.
It's a cool friendship, because we get to live vicariously through one another. I get to hear all about her getting picked up on by a professional football player on a flight from Phoenix. She gets to help put my daughters to bed and hear what they are thankful for. And 14 years after that fateful Scandinavian Lit class, we are still princesses- with very different outcomes.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Comfy Cozy
The end of a very quiet weekend. With Annie being sick, we all laid low for the last couple of days. Since the weather has grown chilly (an icy 65 degrees, but we'll take it)- we baked pumpkin bread, drank cocoa and figured out how to use our gas fireplace. (I cranked the gas, lit a match, almost lost my eyebrows and got to hear Lucy squeal "Magical!").
Saturday, October 11, 2008
I Now Pronounce You Freaky and Disturbing
We hit Disney again this week. The girls didn't have school on Thursday, and it was the day before Annie came down with pneummonia (seriously!)- so we spent six hours with Mickey. I love how excited my kids get- but there is something really creepy and sinister that always befuddles me.
Disney newlyweds. Have you seen them? Newly married brides and grooms- wearing bridal Mickey Mouse ears and usually severely overweight and in dire need of lasik eye surgery. They can usually be found standing on the huge lines to meet various Disney characters. Clutching their autograph books, they shove the little kids aside and take their picture with a guy dressed up like Winnie the Pooh that you know is dying a little on the inside. When I took the anklebiters to Ariel's Grotto for some lunch, the newlyweds in attendance completely upstaged the princesses with their freaky gasps of wonder. It really, really scares me. Their enthusiasm and eagerness to fill their autograph books with meaningless signatures is akin to seeing a 42 year old man walk around in diapers. Highly inappropriate and disturbing.
We are home now, safe from the Disney freaks and going to call it a quiet weekend filled with breathing treatments and antibiotics.
Disney newlyweds. Have you seen them? Newly married brides and grooms- wearing bridal Mickey Mouse ears and usually severely overweight and in dire need of lasik eye surgery. They can usually be found standing on the huge lines to meet various Disney characters. Clutching their autograph books, they shove the little kids aside and take their picture with a guy dressed up like Winnie the Pooh that you know is dying a little on the inside. When I took the anklebiters to Ariel's Grotto for some lunch, the newlyweds in attendance completely upstaged the princesses with their freaky gasps of wonder. It really, really scares me. Their enthusiasm and eagerness to fill their autograph books with meaningless signatures is akin to seeing a 42 year old man walk around in diapers. Highly inappropriate and disturbing.
We are home now, safe from the Disney freaks and going to call it a quiet weekend filled with breathing treatments and antibiotics.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Nasty George
Aack. Almost a week has gone by. Not much to report. George decided to eat Matt's only pair of glasses on Sunday, and culminated his Naughty-palooza by devouring most of a poopie diaper for breakfast this morning. Luckily for him, he knows how to work his baby brown puppy eyes as he is still a member of our family. Do not accept any kisses from him for a while. Don't say I didn't warn you.
I had my first play date yesterday- in tony Newport Beach, at a house that must cost over $5 million. Lovely family, but just not my style. I know it will take time to hit my groove, but I wish it would get a move on.
I had my first play date yesterday- in tony Newport Beach, at a house that must cost over $5 million. Lovely family, but just not my style. I know it will take time to hit my groove, but I wish it would get a move on.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Down In The Dumps
So, what did y'all think about the debate? I was seriously hoping for some Alaskan train wreck, and was disappointed. Hats off to the die hard Republican debate coach that made Little Miss Sunshine camera ready. She was gung ho with her answers, whether they asked the question or not. "Let's get back to energy..." Whatever. I promised no more politics.
In other news, we're hosting our first shindig tomorrow at the new digs. My family is all coming to town and we're having a small party for my sister-in-law's birthday. Matt's gonna do the cooking, so let's hope he stays sober enough to make it entirely through the dinner this time. (Last dinner party didn't fare so well).
Lucy's going to have her tonsils and adnoids taken out- hopefully before Christmas. "Look Mommy! Santa brought me a Krups ice cream machine! I can use it morning, noon and night!" She's doing much better, and so am I now that I don't have to look at the mucousy pus coming out of her ear. Who knew being a Mom was such absolutely disgusting work? We haven't washed her hair in a week, and I look like I'm hanging out with a greasy street urchin that likes to eat Cheetos for breakfast and calls ketchup a vegetable.
And finally, after I picked Annie up from school today, I asked her why she looked a little down. Apparently, I said "down in the dumps" because she thought this was the funniest thing she had ever heard, and said George liked to be "down in the dumps" all the time. Yes indeedy, he sure does.
In other news, we're hosting our first shindig tomorrow at the new digs. My family is all coming to town and we're having a small party for my sister-in-law's birthday. Matt's gonna do the cooking, so let's hope he stays sober enough to make it entirely through the dinner this time. (Last dinner party didn't fare so well).
Lucy's going to have her tonsils and adnoids taken out- hopefully before Christmas. "Look Mommy! Santa brought me a Krups ice cream machine! I can use it morning, noon and night!" She's doing much better, and so am I now that I don't have to look at the mucousy pus coming out of her ear. Who knew being a Mom was such absolutely disgusting work? We haven't washed her hair in a week, and I look like I'm hanging out with a greasy street urchin that likes to eat Cheetos for breakfast and calls ketchup a vegetable.
And finally, after I picked Annie up from school today, I asked her why she looked a little down. Apparently, I said "down in the dumps" because she thought this was the funniest thing she had ever heard, and said George liked to be "down in the dumps" all the time. Yes indeedy, he sure does.
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