bad blogger. bad.

yet again i have missed a monday update!  We have been going through some family troubles so if anyone cares to keep us in your thoughts/prayers of any sort, it would be appreciated.  On to the matter at hand, dog blog monday!  Beau has been too busy playing games to pose for pictures.

what a party animal.  Of course, with those cards, I might be snoozing too

unless of course the word was hizzot in which case, perfect!

Most embarrassing ornament we own

You had me at “NuQneh”

Although if you know what it is, you should be as embarrassed as me.

Christmas ‘09

Santa had lots of helpers decorating the tree this year!

our favorite little elf:

I didn’t have my good camera for these next two, I might try to repose beau with the hat later…

(notice the reappearance of the peppermint schnapps hot cocoa)

Hey santa, I’ve been good!

the big two six

happy berfday to me!

Cinnabon and coffee – breakfast of champions

Pat also got me this:

That’s right, my husband got me liquor for my berfday.  Does he know me or what?

Dear Winter,  meet fancy hot chocolate – all day, every day.

Dog Blog!

There is no shortage of Christmas oranges in this household!

Please sir, can I have some more?

Dog Blog Monday – Vacay Edition

I’m a day late, but I’m on vacay, bitches.  And so is Beau – kicking back with the fuzzy robe.  Also possibly a prize fighter.

Best part of visiting family?  Three Thanksgivings.  3, folks.  and Chickfila.

Do you want to hear something gross?

It would seem I never learn my lesson.  I have the bad habit of starting conversations with the question, “Do you want to hear something gross?” even though I know that no rational person is going to answer that question, “Yes. Yes, Summer, please tell me something gross.”  (Especially considering since it’s me and all, it might be a story about the dog farting or it might be something that no one wants to know, like I found a raisin and I ate it and turns out it was poop… just, you know, as an example.)  The reason this question presents a problem is because it provides a false sense of security, as if you could answer no, and not hear the “something gross.”  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Rest assured, if you are unfortunate enough to be in my vicinity when that question is uttered, you will be hearing the “something gross.”  Don’t try to resist.  Just open wide and take a big spoonful of TMI.

Case in point, the other day I was speaking to my mother, the woman who birthed me, and asked her the above question.  To which she replied, “no” (ironic, actually, considering that this is a woman who feels free to discuss her bowel movements with me)  But I proceed to tell her anyways, because that is what I do and I really need to communicate to her the following fact:  quite often, our new apartment inexplicably smells like spicy diarrhea.  You know the type – the kind that comes after one too many tacos.  Or as we in the industry (ie, former Chili’s employees) like to call it, The Chicken Ranch Shits. I have come up with the following possible reasons for my predicament:

1.) The upstairs tenants have a weakness for spicy food and their bathroom vents into ours.

2.) There is a fat maintenance guy who, being as he can’t always make it back to the office in time, lets himself into my apartment when I am gone and fire shits into my toilet.

3.) My cat has kitty fart parties when I am gone to get back at me for his countless humiliations, see below:

4.) I just have really bad karma..  (see above)

And my mother, lord bless her, immediately goes to the following dark place,

“Oh, do you have ethnic people living around you?”

Now I know I have not always been the most culturally sensitive (see my experience with the shart donut) but I try, I really do.

This is also the woman who doesn’t believe me that calling people “Oriental” is offensive.  When I told her, she acted all annoyed that I had corrected her and then called me a week later to tell me she had asked some of her friends, and none of them thought that it was offensive.

Yes, mom, your white, middle-class, middle-aged female friends, in the south, are very likely the most culturally sensitive people you could go to for advice on this one.

Although it did almost make up for it when I asked her,  ”If you are calling someone oriental, then where are they from?”

and she responded, “…   …  the Orient?”

All this to say, that I am on my way to GA to visit this crazy lady and introduce her to her little grandson.  Mr. Man is maybe going to need a lot of therapy.

The Very Hungry Beau

Dog Blog Monday is brought to you this week by Eric Carle:

yet another gem

Patrick on his favorite thing about the baby

“He farts every time I change his diaper…  …  he’s just like his dad”

how much do i love my life? sooooo much!

Dog Blog Monday-a Goggie Saga

A friend told us that after their baby was born, they totally stopped caring about their pets.  Granted, I get a little (a little) obsessive about my animals, but I wondered if things would change after Mr. Man’s arrival.  Truth is, seeing the animals with the baby, I love all three of them a little more.

When I was growing up, I would beg and beg and beg for pets – as a result I owned multiple hamsters, fish, rats, and gerbils, a bird, a turtle, a chinchilla, two cats and twice, I got the grand prize:  a dog.  How did we work our way through so many pets?  My parents were bad at resisting my pleas, but also bad at keeping animals.  The first dog we ever got was a miniature collie named Lady, (hence my porn name Lady Grayfriar)

I know you are super jealous of our linoleum

We kept her for about a year and then my parents got rid of her.  My brothers and I were heartbroken, and were able to convince my parents several years later to get a second dog…

” Oreo Cookies and Cream” or “Rio”

again, I flaunt the linoleum

We kept Rio for a while longer, about three years, but ultimately my parents got rid of her for pretty standard dog issues – shedding, digging up the yard.  Stuff that just kind of comes along with dog ownership.

Patrick’s family on the other hand, were much more responsible pet owners, and he grew up with a black lab, Sport, who they kept until he died (imagine that!) {until the dog died, not patrick, just to clarify}

Did anyone not have those Fisher Price roller skates?

Patrick and his sister and Sport.  This also looks like it could be a page out of Town and Country.

All that to say, being responsible pet owners has been a really big deal to me and Patrick, and it’s not always easy being the owner of a 16 year old cat who routinely finds things to pee on. (out of spite for his many humiliations on this site, no doubt).  So while we knew that unless Beau became outright aggressive (not likely from a dog who pees himself when the wind blows too hard) we would keep him, we didn’t anticipate how sweet he would be towards “his” baby.

and we are super excited for Sebastian to get the opportunity that I never did:  to grow up with a dog.  Because really, is there anything better than this?