De-Tails

While we were celebrating the last 730 days of our "happily ever after", Bear was enjoying a lovely weekend at the local Petsmart Hotel. From 9 - 5 today he was shoved into a room with millions of other abandoned pooches, with nothing to do besides sniff each other and swap drool. I dare say he was reluctant to leave, which is surprising as he usually likes nothing more than to have his cold wet nose pressed up against Caleb's legs.

We've liked the Petsmart Hotel for this reason, but also because of the insane oh-so-cheesy extras. Like this.


It's his "Pawgress" Report. Most of the little comments made were fairly universal, "Good appetite!" (what dog doesn't scarf down it's food? Or loves to play for that matter?). But the comment under "Potty Time" however was a little bit different.

"No problems here!"

I've become so accustomed to the fact that our mutt poops every single time he's let out, I forget this is probably not typical.

Seriously. Every.Single.Time.

I've had an enjoyable evening picturing their faces as they take him out and see that yes, he is again poppin' a squat. Or in Bear's case, a walkin' squat. Does anybody's dog do that? The walking and the squatting?

Not that we need to discuss the mechanics of pooping dogs here.

But it would be nice to know we're not alone.

Year Deuce

It's our second anniversary today, and we're enjoying a lovely weekend in Sonoma, CA.

I can't beleive it's been two years. In two years Caleb and his business partner have bought two franchises, and we've packed up and moved to two different states. A few months after getting married I went to see the doctor about my stomach - apparently I have IBS. To qualify me though, the doctor asked me a bunch of questions, one of them being "How stressed would you say you were?"

Stress? Hmm..... "Well, in the past three months my husband and I got married, he bought a new business, and we moved here from Utah." Yeah, I think I was a little stressed.

Last year I wrote this post about how I hoped that this year would calm down a bit. It hasn't.....in fact, I think we've just continued to stir the waters even more. Crazily enough though, this year has been easier. I'm not even entirely sure how. Maybe we've just learned to pick our battles. Maybe we've just learned to be more tolerant. Either way we've learned a lot about each other, but I think even more about ourselves. Sounds incredibly corny I realize, but it's very true.

So here's to many more years...and hopefully less moves. I must go back to watching tv in bed and munching on our free, delivered to our room, continental breakfast.

Enjoying the lovely island of Maui on our honemoon.

(My frizz-hair wouldn't cooperate. Love the braids Pipi...)

Dream Catcher

I see things like this and immediately begin mentally calculating my odds of winning the lottery if I were to go get a ticket...NOW. No, NOW. No...wait for it....NOW. He is living my dream. Came in the black of night and plucked it out of the little proverbial cloud hanging above my sleeping head.

Caleb sent me the link this morning, I don't know, just in case I wasn't quite filled to the brim with Job Boredom. To make sure there wasn't the slightest chance that I could feel even a glimmer of satisfaction.

Not that there was any danger of that happening.

Apparently the guy was sponsored by Stride gum to visit all of those amazing places. And I figured hey, if some Joe Schmoe could do it, I could right?

This is Caleb's email response to my indignant whining:


Dear Mr. STRIDE GUM
You don’t know us but we are a young couple who saw this crazy video online.
To make a long story short… we need $500 GABILLION dollars to travel the world.

Please send to our home address via FedEx.

Thank you in advance for this wonderful opportunity on your dime.

Sincerely
The Nelson’s
AKA Mr. and Mrs. Moocher


I think they'd take us seriously, right? RIGHT?!??!! PLEASE?!?!

Spring Cleaning by the stars

Do any of you read the little article posts that flash across the screen on the MSN Home page? Apparently we should all check these a little more often. We are missing gems like THIS:

"Spring Cleaning by Sign"

Your astrological sign that is.

I skipped down to mine, which reads:

"Libra:(September 23 - October 22) If your sweetie makes plans, you'll lock the door behind you and let the spring cleaning wait. You appreciate beauty and balance, though, so a neat, clean nest is important. Tend to a few priorities first, a little bit at a time - such as tossing the love notes from high school. (It's over. Really.) Then return everything you decided didn't fit right when you got it home. Force yourself. You can buy dinner for two with the proceeds."

First of all, I'm not really understanding that first sentence. (I don't clean because my "sweetie" makes plans? Makes plans with me?) But that's probably just me.... Second, how do they know I've saved all my love notes from high school!? HUH?! It's like they KNOW ME.

Who doesn't save their love notes? Seriously?

BUT. I do like a neat clean "nest". So this horoscope did pretty well by me. Let's see about my husband....

"Aries:(March 21 - April 19) You're fast and furious as a bullet, so cleaning, like everything else, absolutely must happen quickly - or it won't happen at all. Carry a large Tupperware container through your home. Put anything in it that isn't where it should be - the dishes under the couch, the mats from your sports car that currently live on the porch, and the radar-detector that's broken (because it failed you.) If you can't force yourself to complete the project, use an age-old Aries cleaning secret: toss out everything and buy new stuff!"

Seriously. Now I'm convinced. Where's the camera? How do they know about the famous "stuff it under the bed" (or in the drawer, by the side of the bed, in the closet...) trick he does?

They did get one thing wrong though. Caleb's the saver, and I'm the tosser. He has t-shirts that he packed with him when he moved out of his house and down to college. Then to Texas. Then back to Utah. Then to Oregon. Then to California. I've never seen them on anything but a hanger.

He finds his favorite pants and then wears them until the ends are frayed to nothing, and there's a baseball sized hole in the crotch.

Until this last Christmas every single pair of socks he had were riddled with holes.

When we moved down here (and had to down size considerably...) we went through all of our belongings, trying to empty our pockets of anything we didn't absolutely need. I made him throw out three different pads of paper with nothing on them, one book that had been literally ripped to shreds by one puppy-mutt, and four different college essays. From one of the three classes he took.

(Had to take that jab, Cabe. You know I had to.)

And because I know how anxious you are to get your custom spring cleaning tips, here's the site.

http://astrocenter.astrology.msn.com/msn/ArticleAstrologyHome.aspx?sd=20070313&GT1=9146

Sister, Sister

My sisters have left, and we're back to a quiet, tidy house.

A little too quiet.

There were so many fun little incidents. Liz joked that Caleb WISHED he was a white dude....no one got that one but her....

I laughed all day long about seeing a grown man dressed up in a dog suit trying to get people to pose with his three very sedated dogs. They were all wearing sunglasses and little hats. I couldn't help it.

Kathy discovered the real way to pronounce niche (not "neesh"....).

And Caleb survived living with three girls in a one bedroom apartment. For 4.5 days. That's one bedroom and one bathroom. One bathroom......

Oh here, just look at the pictures.

Here we are wandering the Farmer's Market in San Francisco. We got this lovely dish for our mother. You can see Kathy (right) approves.

We are Master Shoppers. It's in our blood.

San Francisco decided to show us exactly what it thinks of neatly combed hair. San Francisco doesn't like straight hair.

And here we are, enjoying the lovely view of the Golden Gate Bridge. See it? Neither did we.

We then found ourselves near an old military base.

We ponder the universe.

Then I make fun of Kathy's "pondering" face.

So we dash to the uh, stage area. Where the prisoners would entertain the weary soldiers. We decided to try it out.

Liz enjoys the show.

The fog lifts a little. We enjoy the insanely beautiful cliff.

We like each other a little bit.

Caleb is in hardly any of the pictures because he was the designated photographer.

So. Here's where it gets weird. Apparently I have a uh...a weak eye. We discovered this when we decided to make faces.

This is me trying to go cross-eyed.

Creepy much? Yeah.

And of course, what would a girls weekend be without some good old fashioned face masks? I ask you!

My Eyes

It's late, my eyes are burning.

They spent all morning helping my nimble fingers browse the many lovely racks of clothing at the mall. They saw many things they liked. Many. Too many.

They spent all afternoon gazing out into an endless ocean, then scanning the sands for little bits of seashells. (I stood them up in the sand, like little seashell headstones. I made a seashell graveyard.)

They spent the evening scanning the menu at our favorite local Italian restaurant, skipping quickly to notice the light strands hanging around the outside patio we were seated in.

They were repeatedly squeezed shut with laughter, making half moons above my sunkissed cheeks.

They were forced wide open as we made silly faces at each other while we got ready for bed.

And now they're burning as we finish a movie, one I've recently seen but enjoyed enough to watch again with them.

But they're happy. Tired, but happy.

Preparation

Two of my sisters are coming in town tomorrow, and I've been busily trying to get ready. Something about having my sisters see my home (one bedroom apartments are considered homes, are they not?) gets me all domestic. I've been antsy all week to scrub the place down, haul the Aerobed out of it's box, tuck in their sheets....maybe place a mint on their pillow. Just for good measure. I've been arguing with myself about which meals to make, something fancy? Something to show off my budding culinary skills? Or maybe something my mom makes?

I know full well that neither of them will notice that I've wiped the baseboards and walked around the entire apartment with my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (have I mentioned my undying love for Mr. Clean's Magic Eraser? It runs deep.....real deep....) and scrubbed away anything even remotely resembling a mark. They'll roll their eyes when they learn that I've agonized over something like meal preparation, and tease me about my meager Easter decorations.

And they're probably right. But at least I'll be able to sleep tonight, knowing I've cleaned every square inch behind my toilet.

And whilst I'm rambling, I had a fun little trip down memory lane as well. I was putting my new bedspread on our bed and as I whipped the quilt up so that it would lay neatly on the mattress, I began humming "The Age of Not-Believing" from Bednobs & Broomsticks.

"That's Charlie, to a "T"."

I used to lay awake at night thinking about where I would go if I had a magic bed to fly me anywhere I asked it to.

Where would you go?

Home Sweet Home

A few emails from my 8 year old little sister, who lives in Utah -

dear kim,
I wish bear was coming with you!I wish caleb was too! On friday & saturday i went swimming at the new rec center. I have ben there 3 times already! This week was beautiful and nice. it felt like spring even though its not. i went to the dentist on thursday.my teeth are yellow! my other tooth is out and gone the toothfairy took it. i still have my other teeth! YUK! I hope you have a nice week! see you in may!
love
emily

dear kim, i already sent a e-mail but i forgot something. i wanted to come down with kathy and liz but mom said i cant! i really wanted to! sorry. i love e-mailing people i know. is bear geting bigger and in (I'm) missing it? aw man. is what ever you call it a good place to live? it would be cool to live there. all the good warmth and breeze.oh ya! filli'n good! (yeah, I have no idea...) im getting better at typing fast and im only in seccond grade!cool! tell caleb and bear i love them! see ya! love: emily

It's times like these when I'd give anything to pack up and head for home. Anything. I'd never watch another episode of Oprah. I'd give up ice cream. Chocolate. These wonderful California "winters". Never take another hot bubble bath. I'd never eat another artichoke. I would vow to never again slather a nice crisp Granny Smith with Adam's peanut butter. Ever.

And that's saying a lot.

Happy Birthday Kjersti!

Ah Kjersti. We've had so many good times. I don't think there is anyone else on this wide green Earth that I could have....

*started a game of "house" when we were put youngsters, and keep it going until the 5th grade...Jim & Jimmy miss us, I think...

*walked around our neighborhood looking for "mysteries". "See that key stuck in the tar on the street!?! It must be a mystery!!!"

*been kicked out of Payless Drug on numerous occasions for bouncing our newly purchased bouncy balls down the isles. The good ole days!

*spent entire days writing our book in 10 pt. font.

*kept a notebook of thoughts, secrets and SSFB's, again, for years. Let's pull those out, eh?

*been so enamored with one Dean Cain, that we logged many hours of our lives watching, memorizing, and re-watching the Lois & Clark episodes.

*willingly brought dolls and bows and arrows to school. And been serious about it.

*imagined that our bikes were actually wild horses. We'd ride in our circle with the plastic strings on our handles billowing behind us. You remember Deer-true right?

*successfully pulled off several fabulous parties with Margie, the sweetest lady ever. How IS your heart lately?!

*sat on the corner on warm summer nights talking until the stars arrived.

*survived Mr. Morely's class with. Wow that was a LONG semester....

*wanted by my side to face the dreaded Mr. Stacey Alan Driver. He once drove off a cliff...that made his neck so stiff.....I'm shuddering, just now.

*really, just spent the last 18 years with.

I am seriously so grateful to have such an amazing friend. Happy Birthday!!! I can't wait to sit around in the old folks home when our husbands have passed. We'll play Nerts and gossip and talk sex. It'll be great. :)

Ginger Snaps

This recipe is most definitely my favorite cookie recipe of all time. It's quick and the results are simply divine. I've been trying to figure out why I like these cookies so much, if it's the bark of the ginger or the tang of the sweet molasses. I think though, that it has most to do with my memories than the actual cookies themselves, even though they are, as I said, manna from heaven. (I swear I've mentioned it here before, but couldn't find the post for the life of me. So if I have, deal with it!) My sweet fabulous grandpa who has since passed away, absolutely loved ginger snaps. He bought his, little thin disks that you could snap in two, and I used to love to grab a few and hold them in my little hands. They'd crumble a little, sending that sweet ginger smell northward, further whetting my appetite. He loved to tease his grand kids, me especially, and would hide them in different places every time I'd come to visit, and I'd spend as long as it took to find that little brown bag. He'd laugh, his little eyes squeezed shut, watching me riffle through their cupboards.

That's why these are my favorite cookies.

Ginger Snaps

Ingredients:

3/4 c. shortening
1 c. sugar
1 egg (unbeaten)
1/4 c. molasses
2 c. flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 Tbs. ground ginger
1 tsp. cinnamon

Cream sugar, shortening & egg. Add molasses and mix. Combine all the dry ingredients & add slowly to the cream mixture.

Roll into little balls* and roll in white granulated sugar. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 - 12 minutes.**

*seriously little balls. I'm talkin' almost comically small. Think Whoppers candy small.

**10 minutes is the longest I've ever put them in for. Always check, ovens are finicky that way!

-------------------

I hope there is an endless supply of ginger snaps in heaven. My grandpa and I will sit down and enjoy a plate of them as we reminisce about our little hide and seek game.

Heat

After sleeping in until 11:30 (yes, I realize that we should be enjoying every minute of this wonderful opportunity to sleep in as long as we please, and I assure you we are) I rolled out of bed, threw on a suit and headed down to the pool to catch some rays. You know, fit in with the locals. No one would believe I live in California with this pasty white skin. You'd think I'd spent the last year or so in Oregon or somethin'.

Our apartment complex is super close to a university and so many of the tenants are college students. A rather large group of them had the same brilliant idea as mine. Most of them were innocuous, reading textbooks and studying. After I'd been there a little while a girl came in to meet some friends. She was loud and obnoxious, going on and on about how she wanted to go get drunk and "Oh Johnny, will you be my boyfriend? I need a boyfriend real bad." She was trying to convince her friends to come party with her.

She managed to do so, and as they got up to leave with her she added for good measure "Besides, we can't get tan today, it's not hot enough."

I am go glad to live in a world where people can get all the way through college with the understanding that heat is what makes you tan.

I could be insanely stereotypical and mention that she was blonde, but I won't. No, I wouldn't do that.

Does seem to be a funny coincidence though.

But seriously, I have many blonde friends and all of them are much smarter than I am. I have nothing against blondes. I love ya'll.

Should I mention though, that a few of the other girls wore heels to the pool? Heels and their bathing suits...I should, lest I forget I'm living in California.

They were also blonde. But that doesn't have anything to do with it.

Shame

I come from a long line of holiday decorators.

(Actually, that just sounded good. In reality, I can only verify that my mother is a holiday decorating fanatic. This I know to be true.)

This last Christmas I think my mom out did herself. I wish I'd taken pictures, it really was truly amazing. She collects these little village houses and they covered every flat surface on the main level. Every art & craft she'd ever done at the women's church activities was on display. The tree was chock full of all of the ornaments we've collected over the years. All of the bed linens had been changed to some sort of red, green & white variation. Even the bathrooms had some little reminder that yes, Christmas was here.


For Valentines Day she always decorated the table in pinks and reds, set out the fancy china, lit candles and sprinkled confetti shaped like lips.


When we were kids she used to dye our breakfast green on St. Patrick's Day.


For Easter we'd dye dozens and dozens of eggs despite the fact that there were only three kids. The entire house transformed into pale shades of every spring color.

This is the sum of all of the Easter decorations. My Christmas decorations aren't much better.

I feel as if I've shamed my mother.

I wonder if Target is having a sale....

Mail: Little pieces of heaven

I love getting mail. Love it. My favorite part of the day is those few seconds when I am jingling the keys trying to find the right one to open up our teeny tiny square box that holds The Mail. I base my happiness on whether or not there is mail in that box.

Anything will do really, a credit card application (sent to a Claeb J. Nelson, or a CLEAB Nelson - come on people if you expect me to believe it's worth opening, GET SOME ADMINS WHO KNOW HOW TO TYPE), the weekly deals at the grocery stores. Secretly, those are my favorites. I love to open them up and look at the foods that I COULD be eating this week.

Mmmm! Lamb chops! Those look good. (I am not a fan of lamb, but THEY CAME IN THE MAIL. I LIKEY.)

My favorite part is the section about the personal products. Tampons! On sale! Depends, buy two get one free! Hey, if I buy a pack of AA batteries, I could get $3 off a box of Trojans!

Wait.....that's odd....

Anyway, I love mail. This would be an example of an EXCEPTIONAL day. This kind of day requires a celebration, a ritual to the Mail Gods.

That would be our new quilt. The washer broke the other one. No really, it broke it. I swear.

Today we got a catalog for Dr. Fosters and Smiths. Does anyone else get this? When we first got married I missed being at home where the mail always ranneth over. So I spent a rather large amount of time on a website that allowed me to subscribe to thousands of free catalogs. I soon felt bad for Caleb, who would be getting nothing, so I subscribed to it for him, he the lover of all animals in our house.

I don't think he's looked at it once. I rather enjoy it though, much to my surprise. Do you know that there are CRAZY dog & cat owners out there? People who woke up and thought, "You know what my Fluffy needs? DoyouknowwhatmywiddleFluffywuffyneeds?!?!?"

Disposable! Comes complete with Animal Planet images for your doggies' viewing pleasure.

Or maybe perhaps your little poochie feels left out at home all day long. Besides, who says he can't appreciate a little Louis Vitton or Banana Republic?!

I actually used to know someone who took their dog to the mall. Don't know why, I tend to steer clear from antagonizing those kind of people....they tend to be a little high strung.

Notice the look of love she is bestowing on her little "baby". Mommy wuvs her baby! And her ginormous curlers! Yes she does!

She could fit a Twinkie under those bangs...

Anyway, let's not forget the cat lovers out there. Cause they are many.

Attach a laser to your kitty!!! A "FRICKIN' LASER BEAM!"

Love the caption - "LED light shines wherever kitty looks."

Nuts Kitty will be.

And who doesn't love a wacked out cat?!

Humiliation Chronicals #2

*The story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

(Totally used to LOVE that show. I'm sure 99% of it went over my head. But I had a crush on Joe Friday. So storyline didn't really matter.)

October 16, 1995

Dear Journal,

6th grade is a real challenge. When 3 teachers are teaching you, it gets really confusing (try eight sister - better yet, try college). My home room teacher is Mrs. Jones*. She is really cool. She puts things bluntly and it sounds really funny. Then we switch in the mornings and go to either math or science. After we stay in home room.
But 6th grade is a challenge for another reason. Fitting in. It seems as though we are all fighting for attention. I know Sarah is. She told me. And I am too. It's a really bad feeling and you hate doing it, but you can't stop. Amy always gets the attention even though she says she doesn't like it. And Sarah gets the attention from Amy. Amy is always talking directly to Sarah. I feel left out sometimes. Other times I'm fine. Like when everyone is talking and paying attention to everyone. I sometimes feel that if I do something wrong everyone will talk about me behind my back. It's not the greatest feeling. (Least of your worries girl, trust me....)
Also, almost all my friends have clean faces. I have to have pimples. I don't have a lot, just on my chin. I've always thought I was ugly, but grownups (grownups? Wow, I WAS young..) tell me I'm pretty. Sometimes I think they're just saying it (they were). I wonder if it's just some people or if everyone does. I don't think I'm pretty. Just average I guess. I feel like I am the only one with pimples. I just don't know. (I read through several entries, and I was very fond of this "I don't know" phrase. I lovingly ended many a paragraph with this oh-so-descriptive fragment.)

Wow, a whole three teachers?! A pimple here and there?!

My LIFE, for three teachers and a pimple. Gladly.

In which I am enlightened....

One aspect of my job involves interacting with mentally and / or physically handicapped people. For the most part this is a fun little perk - you never know what they're going to do or say. They're usually always very happy, fun individuals that LOVE to talk. LOVE. It's always a lot of fun to have them come in the office.

My conversation yesterday with Mike:

"Hi Mike!"

"Hi.........." (long silence) "Can I ask you a question that is none of my business?"

"Sure, Mike."

"Does that ring on your finger mean that you're married?"

"Yup, it does!"

"It's none of my business what his name is......."

"That's okay, it's Caleb."

"Does he have facial hair?"

......(laugh) "Only when he's lazy!"

And later this statement, after a long discussion about how he wants a passport for his birthday so that he can travel:

"The only person that's been to every country in the world is Santa Claus."

"Yup, that's true...."

"He knows if we're good or bad......so does God."


Also very true. Had never thought of it that way....

Daylight saving me....

I LOVE that it's lighter later. Love love love. So we decided to soak up those extra 60 minutes....

We made a little picnic dinner (sandwiches...does that count as a dinner?) and ate it down by the pool area.

(Cabe's photo)

But after? I came upstairs and fell asleep until 10 pm. But light! Past 5 pm! Yeah!

Men are from Mars

Yesterday Caleb's parents were in town so we all went to the beach to enjoy the sun. Caleb and I were talking on the drive home about names. Middle names actually - Caleb was again commenting on how strange it was that my sisters and I don't have them.

"Why is it so strange" I asked, "do YOUR sisters have middle names?"

And do you know what? He had NO IDEA. His excuse was that by the time he was old enough they were all out of the house. But I say that has nothing to do with the fact that he should, as their brother, know at least whether or not they HAD middle names. Never mind what they were.

And this explains a lot more about the difference between Caleb and I than it really should.

Apartment living woes...

Rolling out of bed at ungodly hours to let the mutt out. Fumbling for pajama pants and a sweatshirt and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I stumble down the hall and into the elevator. My blurry eyes clear and the fog of sleep fades as I hit the brisk morning air, and I get back in the elevator. There's a man inside dressed for the day already. I'm in my pajamas, my hair running off in every direction but the one it's supposed to be in. My eyes are puffy and I haven't even brushed my teeth yet.

But we don't have to replace our own light bulbs.

Groundhog Day

Today when I walked into the gym in our apartment complex I discovered that there was someone on my machine. That's right, MY machine. Of course there were several other treadmills available, but it was my machine. The machine I use every day. And not only was my machine in use, but it was in use by someone who doesn't usually go to the gym that early. Not really that big a deal right?

It wasn't. But I couldn't stop thinking about it.

See, I am a creature of habit. I have only recently discovered this. I like things done a certain way, or rather, I like DOING things a certain way. Like going to the gym, I get up at the same time every day. I get ready the same way, this article of clothing, then that. I put my phone in my jacket pocket, fill my water bottle, turn on one kitchen light - the same way every day. I walk down to the gym and get on the same machine every day, say hello to the same man who is there every day, and run for 30 minutes. The nice man works on the machines and then a few minutes before I'm done running, he leaves. When I'm halfway done on the machines myself, a girl comes in and gets on the treadmill, then I finish and leave.

The same way. Every day.

But every once in a while there's a glitch in my seamless process - someone else decides to work out that morning, I forget to put my work out clothes in the bathroom. Someone is on my machine. And it bothers me. Not in a "Ohmigosh, how dare they work out on MY machine" way, but....it throws off my groove. I seem to tire more quickly, and I find myself randomly thinking throughout the day about why that girl suddenly decided to start working out. She wasn't there yesterday, and she probably won't be there tomorrow (she wasn't). And why am I thinking about this?!

I know, I'm weird.

I also get in food ruts as well. Before we moved here I used to eat at this mom & pop deli in downtown Corvallis. They had The Most Fabulous Sandwich in the World. It had me at hello. I went back the next day. Then I decided that really, I could make this myself, so I did, though of course it was never as good, not nearly. But I couldn't very well eat out every day for lunch, we just weren't (aren't!) made of that much moolah. So I continued to make it every day for the next two months. Every. Single. Day. I only stopped because Caleb pointed it out, and I got all self-conscious.

My latest lunch food rut? Sliced green apples with Adam's Peanut Butter. (I could write an entire post about my love for this insanely amazing food of the gods...one tidbit, I have to. Just check out the ingredients. I dare you to go back to your Skippy.) I also have a Laughing Cow Garlic & Herb Cheese wedge with 5 Ritz crackers and a string cheese. And so you all don't slip into a coma, I'll just say that I prepare all this food the same way every day.

I find comfort in routine. I know what I'm getting, I know I'll like it. No disappointment. That's not to say I don't enjoy surprises, I do. It's the little things in life that I tend to get hung up on. I have a horrible time ordering something at a restaurant but I have no problem planning my life out.

Another little OCD tendency? Probably. Is it normal to be discovering such integral parts of my personality this late in life? Can't wait for tomorrow....

Because I'm tired. That's why.

Day #3 of Project Keep the Dog Calm. Not working. Shows no improvement. And the sick fear of what that means is trying to eek it's way off the back burner in my crowded brain. Anybody know how to keep a dog prostrate? I'm open for suggestions. Duct tape is acceptable in your answer.

Is anyone else watching the new show, "Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader"? Is it just me? Am I the only one getting a kick out of watching adults rely on 10 year olds? And LOSING to them!? This is classic tv, people. Classic.

Okay, so Caleb is out of town. So what? What does that have to do with anything?

A bowl of cereal and an artichoke is a perfectly good meal. Grains, dairy, vegetables....

AGAIN with the husband being out of town? Seriously, that has nothing to do with it.

Dear Govenator....

Alright, alright, so I Tivo Oprah (....alright...alright....so I don't have Tivo, I have a DVR....if only....), so I'm a LITTLE late on this whole thing, but did anyone see the show the other day about what happens to children who were once abducted? They had this guy on who had been abducted when he was younger, and then had Elizabeth Smart's father and a few Professionals. At the end of the show which was very interesting / heartbreaking, Oprah's suggestion for what WE can do was to send a letter to our local senator and govenor to put these people behind bars. And low and behold! She's already written it for us! Meaning some pee-on wrote it. But still. All we have to do is print it out, sign, and mail it. So I did. And I invite you all to at least check it out, see if you agree. Then send in these letters (or you can email! Free! Fast!) and you can check off your good deed for the day. Let's DO something. Let's protect our children, our brother's and sister's children, our neighbor's children.

And.....since Caleb is gone, which means the laptop is gone, which means I'm left with the old Mac, which means....it sucks....I can't add a hyperlink. So you're going to have to actually copy and paste the address. I know, I know. It's inexcuseable. Forgive me, I don't like what I have to do.

Dumb Mac.

http://www.oprah.com/tows/slide/200702/20070221/slide_20070221_284_114.jhtml

(find the link at the bottom of the page, something about writing a letter! yeah! For addresses to your local senator go to www.congress.gov and for your govenor go to www.usa.gov)

The tale of the SIWNM

Day #1 of Project: Keep The Crazy Dog Calm

No sedatives. All gone. He woke us up at 5:24 am.

Later I ran Caleb to the airport, and then returned back home to take the dog out before going back to work. It takes me literally 10 minutes, round trip. We live that close. And in that 10 minutes, the dog, the gimp, he who just eeked out over $300 from us, had managed to get the half-loaf of bread from the counter and devour it.

So yeah, things are going well. He's now bemoaning the fact that Caleb isn't here. Everything's normal.

And me? Recovering. Today I had to ship a rather large item for work. A framed NY Yankee's signed jersey to be exact. I decided to take it to the local UPS Store (sorry Cabe...Brown does a lot for me...) to be professionally packaged. It was large, but fit fairly easily in the back seat of my car. Today when I came to pick it up, well, it was just a little bit larger. Thankfully not very heavy, so I lugged it back to my car, opened up the car door, and started trying to solve the world's most impossible Tetris game.

I lost.

Just as I was about to start freaking out, here I am with this super important FRAMED SIGNED JERSERY and no way to transport it back, some super insanely wonderfully nice man came over asking if I needed help. Um, yes. Yes I do. He quickly agreed that no, it would not be fitting in my car. Trunk? Maybe. And hey! My back seats? They fold down! Yeah for 60 / 40 split or whatever! The only problem, I told him, was that I had no idea how to fold them. I start pulling out all these little levers, thinking YES! ME! SMART! The SIWNM said that um, no, that was for child seats or something. Luckily I accidentally happened upon the magic button, little levers IN the truck. Sadly though, we could only shove the in 3/4 of the way. That left about, oh, 2 feet sticking out the back. Did I say that this box was about 3 inches shorter than me? 'Tis true. My office was only a few minutes away, so we both decided I'd be okay, so long as I didn't travel over 25 mph. So I got to be one of THOSE people. The idiots that drive with who-knows-what sticking out of their trunk, plodding along as if their mattress or freshly-cut tree was priceless.

Mine was though.

Thankfully it is now out of my hands and into the (hopefully!) loving arms of DHL (there Cabe, happy?!). And here's where I must, as my husband's wife, shamelessly plug DHL.

DHL. DHL. DHL. DHL.

I've really got to find something exciting to fill my day. This is getting ridiculous.

The 6 degrees of Becks and my mutt....

Today Caleb took our dog Bear (I refer to him as "mutt") to the vet to see what's wrong with his back leg. He's had troubles with his back limbs a few times, once when we moved to Oregon, once when he got hit by a car. This time however, there seemed to be no starting point. No one incident. One day we noticed that he wasn't putting any weight on his back leg. That's it. He never acted like it hurt, never ceased to bring us the ball, or whine to puh-LEASE go outside and play. Apparently this is the "Aussie Way", acting like tough dudes so they can continue to be as active as they please.

The vet said, after listening to Bear's long history, that it was probably best to take an x-ray to see if it was his hip or knee that was bothering him. Caleb told me this over the phone while I was at work, and I wondered if my exagerated eye roll could actually force my tired eyes up into my brain. Of course. An x-ray. I am not ashamed to admit that the first question I asked was how much that would cost us.

It wasn't a pretty figure.

"Building life-long relationships with you and your pets"
(Translation: We took all your money, so you can never forget us)

Does anybody else find these charges to be a little crazy? $92.50 for a shot? $175 for two x-rays? That a new Ipod people. And the mutt totally owes us one...

But...this IS Caleb's baby, so we conceded. Or rather, Caleb conceded and I went along with it. So they sedated him, pumped him full of dye, and took the x-rays. It wasn't his hips but his knee, and thankfully nothing was torn - yet. It is NEARLY torn, so it's swollen and painful. Thankfully surgery isn't necessary until or if it gets torn. So they handed over our droopy drooly mutt, gave us some pills, and told us to keep him calm and relaxed for 10 days so his knee could heal.

10 days. Relaxed... Calm...10 DAYS?! ARE THEY KIDDING?!

I thought for SURE the pills were a sedative. Of course! Keep him sedated for 10 days to heal his knee! Yes! I could handle a sedated dog! Bring on the drool!

Oh. They're pain killers. Hmm. So.....how do we keep this dog still (ish) for 10 days? Honestly, I'm asking. Oh, they had some suggestions, "Put a treat in a Kong!" or "Put a treat in a Kong!" or even better, "Put a treat in a Kong!" They obviously don't know this dog. That will keep him entertained for MAYBE 10 minutes. Maybe. 5 is more realistic. Last night Caleb threw the ball outside with him for a hour. And NOW they're telling us to keep him still? Don't get me wrong, I understand why and know it's definitely necessary, but Bear is not going to see that logic. Which means we will be subjected to his moans and groans for 240 hours straight. That's 14,400 minutes.

Maybe the vet should have prescribed US a sedative.

So let's make the best of the situation, right? Let's exploit the dog! That's what I do best.

NOT Right-brained....

Yup, no post last night. I'm noticing a downward spiral here, and yes, that means I'm running out of clever things to say. I'm having The Block. So I decided that since I could think of nothing interesting to talk about, I'd post some fantabulous photo that I had worked on in Photoshop using skills that I taught myself ON THE SPOT. In the moment. Unfiltered creative juices.

Then I spent like, forever, on this one DUMB photo because really, I have no skills. So Caleb tried to help me, but kept asking me what I wanted to do with the photo. What I wanted the end result to be. "Um....to look cool?"

Apparently that's not the right answer.

So I continued to mess with it a little longer. Then gave up, convinced that the Creativity Gene had indeed passed me by.

Take me out to the ball game...

This week at work I was asked if I wanted some tickets to the local college's baseball game. Tickets to a suite actually, and while I've never found baseball to be particularly thrilling, I took them. You can't pass that up right? The field just so happens to be mere feet from our apartment complex, we can actually see right field from our living room (living room / kitchen / dining room / office.....just in case you were all thinking we had an ACTUAL living room...).

Caleb and I were excited, gearing ourselves up for a day of classic American fun - baseball, hot dogs & Cracker Jacks. We walked over reveling in the warm 70 degree weather, tickets in hand. I think we were most excited about the fact that we wouldn't be sitting around our apartment asking each other what we should do. We do that alot. Too much.

We were to be sharing the suite with several Special Olympics athletes, one of which was going to throw the first pitch or whatever it's called. (First pitch? See how much I know about baseball?!) We arrived just in time to see him throw it, a little too high, and the entire room was just buzzing. The other athletes were so excited to see him out there, and after he threw it you could just see him just puff up with pride. I nearly lost it, especially watching him get high fives from all the players. You'd have to be a statue not to be affected by something like that.

Earlier in the day, I'd asked Caleb how long the baseball game would last. I hadn't been to a game in years. He said "Oh, like 2 hours."When we were an hour into the game and only in the 2nd inning, I realized that uh, 2 hours was a bit fat lie. Try 5 hours. 11 innings. That'd be more accurate.

So during the 5th inning we decided to get something to eat, but found that they didn't take anything but cash. I guess that's what you get when you go to a college game. So we walked down to Subway (a perk of living "in the city") to get some lunch. I was secretly glad, I couldn't have ACTUALLY ingested a hot dog. My dad worked in a meat factory when he was younger, and many a nice dinner has been ruined at our household after he's finished up the meal by giving us the low down on the inner workings of meat factory's. I do not eat hot dogs. Anyway, by the time we'd returned, it was only the bottom of the 6th inning.

Needless to say, we grew a little bored. So we messed around with the camera.

Not a fabulous picture, I realize. I'm learning, I swear.

Caleb took this one, and I always hesitate to put his pics on here because well, they make mine look like crap. I decided to post it anyway, because I rather like it. That's flexibility people, rather impressive from a male. Is this a normal pitchers stance? It looks like he's practicing Pilate's. Maybe he is.

This one was taken with our telephoto lens, and I quickly discovered that while it IS great for long distance shots, it can ALSO double as binoculars. Which is great for people watching. And watching the pitcher make his funny hand signals to his team mates. And holding an unofficial "who has the best butt" contest. And that kept me entertained for awhile.

Caleb throws us his favorite face. The you-can't-touch-me look.

This is me resigned to watching the game because Caleb, realizing my evil plot, has usurped the camera / binoculars.

We didn't win, but we had fun.

Happy Birthday!

Today was the 20th anniversary of Unishippers, the company that my husband works for. To celebrate the company sent out a "party in a box", and had pizza delivered to all the franchisees with strict instructions that at noon, everyone was to party like it was 1987.

In the "party box" there was a CD with a little memorial video, a bag of Tootsie Roll pops, "Happy Birthday" hats, a banner, a "yearbook", and those funny little noise makers that everyone has at New Years. You know, the annoying duck-sounding ones? They roll out?

Bear hates them. We quickly discovered that. So of course, I continued to drive him nuts until I started feeling sorry for our neighbors, who must have been three seconds away from jamming a pencil into their knee. Bear's squeal-barks can do that to a person.

As I said, the party was to start at noon. The great thing about my new job is that for the first time, I get to come home for lunch. I know, exciting right? Seriously though...I love it. Make some food, curl up on the couch...anyway. I also take my lunch at 1 pm because well...when I get back I only have three hours left, and it makes me feel better. And yeah, I realize that the hours are the same, but still.

Today however, I had strict instructions to be home at noon, OR ELSE. I told Caleb that if for some reason I couldn't get away until 1, to just put the pizza in the oven for me. No big deal, right? Wrong. "THIS IS IMPORTANT KIM."

At 11:49 Caleb called. As his dad would say, persistence pays. I came home.

The Banner. And our messy apartment. And a poorly shot picture (not your fault Cabe...it's not you it's me!) Don't those bananas look good though?

See us? We're ready to party! Bear lasted about three more seconds before dipping his head and swiping that darn hat off. See his pleading eyes?

Happy Birthday Unishippers!

Earth Shattering

And also?! As I was telling you all about the fun noise makers, Caleb and I experience our first real live California Earthquake.

I was just about to type "noise makers" when suddenly the windows made that noise you hear when you close your front door, and then the entire building shook back and forth several times. It all happened so fast, neither Caleb or I really knew what was happening until it was over. He said my name, and that was all it took. The fear in his voice made my heart kick into overdrive, it literally felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. Have you ever so nearly been in a car accident that for several minutes after it was over your whole body felt tingly and your heart beat so rapidly you thought it might actually stop? That's kinda what it was like.

Apparently it was a 4.2 and not anywhere near us, but in Lafayette. I can't stop thinking about how scary that was, and it was nothing. At least "nothing" in this area of California.

Kinda makes me want to re-evaluate our emergency preparedness gear.

Twitch

And another thing......does anyone know why the posts get totally screwed up every time you upload a picture? The spacing in the paragraphs! It's enough to keep an OCD sufferer up all night long....