Three Months to Three Years

You know, he was the first to make her laugh. It was September 2nd, 2010. Todd threw him pieces of paper that he'd jump around trying to snap at. You'd think a 100lb fang-tooth snapping his jaws all over the place would inspire fear, but I'm sorry, she is a fire sign and only fears repression. Her top five favorite things are highway robbery, winning arguments on the internet, prank calling the pope, skulking around catacombs and getting inside-joke text messages from Frank Black.

(Jil, those are your favorite things).

He still makes her laugh, you know. I'll have him "wipe his feet" which Todd taught him, where he spins in a circle, eager for a treat. Alex will laugh hysterically, twirling like a ballerina right there beside him, her only treat being, of course, the camaraderie that ensues. And he's so patient with the whole tail-pulling, screeching with laughter near his highly sensitive ears game.

Turns out her favorite things are actually destroying the house, having daddy throw her high into the air or launch her far onto the bed or let her walk on the ceiling, putting her stuffed animals in her little kitchen's microwave, running around the house letting Bingley chase her and pulling Patton's tail. So you know, still all fire sign things.

Most of Patton's favorite things are grosser than that, but one of them is definitely getting cuddles and kisses from his best non-kitty friend.

This GF MFer.

I mean, would you just look at that guy? If he was selected to go on America's Next Top Model, he'd win. For one thing, there'd be no requirement for a makeover. If anything, those morons would be rallying for a makeunder in an attempt to sabotage what I'm sure would end up a flawless portfolio.

Everytime I think of a model's portfolio I think of that scene in The Great Muppet Caper where Miss Piggy shows Lady Holiday her, well, portfolio.

Anyways, this sporty son of a bitch (that's not cussing, that is just stating a fact). We spent the night over at some friends' house to celebrate the 4th of July, and they have a pool. We brought the dog because WHAT COULD GO WRONG amiright, and some youngsters had a blast throwing toys in the pool once they realized that this dog would chase anything, into anywhere. I mean, this is a dog who literally wants to chase bullets.

So for the entire afternoon the dog was hounded by kids and goaded into jumping into the pool over and over and over again. Then at night after the kids left, Alex went to bed and the wine started flowing in earnest, and we ladies had some fun jumping into the pool, Patton chased US into the pool. All night. Every goddamn time we'd jump in the pool, Patton would be all "WELL DAMN HUMAN NO DROWNING ON MY WATCH."

Hey, hey there. Did I ever talk about on here how Patton once tried saving Todd from the pool at his parents' house? Yeah, that's a thing. That's a thing that happens. So Todd was hanging in the pool and that was okay, Patton was still sort of pacing around the pool all quelle horreur, my master needs me but how can I herd him without drowning. But it was okay.

THEN Todd decided he wanted to swim a few freestyle strokes and Patton was like WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU and leaped into the pool, chasing Todd down the length of the pool. Todd describes what happens next as such: "So he's swimming up to me, and his claws are digging into my chest, but then he put his teeth around my shoulder by my neck, so at that point I was like, I'm just going to go with it." And then Patton, with 6'7" Todd in his mouth, turns and drags him to the steps. So you know, Patton is a lifeguard. Just one with wildly inappropriate guidelines as to what constitutes drowning.

Now before you start injecting reason and logic into this blog post, because why the hell would I do that, the reason we brought Patton along was so we could sleep over. The whole idea was to put him in our guest room while people swam, and then let him out while we were done. But in the first five minutes of doggy introductions, so he could sniff and say hi to everyone, one of those kids threw something in the pool, and that was it.

There were some other things like Patton running into a jumping cholla bud and Todd having to painstakingly pluck out every single thorn (Jumping cholla is the palo verde beetle of plants out here, just a total asshole), but for the most part, the day and evening were punctuated with the intermittent splashing of a 100lb dog jumping into the pool. The water displacement all over the deck was unreal.

The next day, Patton could barely walk. Upon closer inspection we realized that at some point that afternoon or evening, he'd cut one of his rear paw pads on the flagstone that surrounds the pool. But regardless of that, he kept jumping in to "save us" from the water. Repeatedly. Like, his theme song should be "500 miles" by the Proclaimers. For more reasons than just the repetition, or the catchiness, or the devotion the song describes.

He hobbled around for a couple of days, and then that photo was taken, that sporty as all get out dog, happy as a pig in mud, happy with his mangled toy, something else to chase. I love this damn dog. If there's a better one out there, then no. No, sir, I do not accept that possibility. Now, good day, sir, and kindly look at that happy as hell dog once more, because he's America's next top model.

Oh, Patton.

Why doesn't anyone take me seriously?

You know, I sit around here observing and taking everything in, I am a creature who could provide  thought-provoking, life-changing, deeply emotional perspective with an intellectual undercoat.

I am serious. Who better to inform you of life's intricities than the one who never speaks but always listens? Why are you laughing?

I said why are you laughing?!?

And Speaking of Patton...

He's all, what? This is how I roll, bro. Shut up, drink your wine and finish watching Doc Martin.

For what it's worth, I did this to him, not Alex.

Really, guys? Really?

Bingley was outside for most of the day while Patton hung inside. This is the reunion and it lasted for over 15 minutes.

GET A ROOM.

Wonderful Week

This week has just been lovely. I feel like it was a great, solid week full of fulfillment and achievement and nowhere did Alexandra slap my face away when I tried to give her a kiss, so that was swell.

But seriously, I managed a dog walk everyday, I managed a workout everyday, I WORKED ON MY STORY, I bought a Crate & Barrel serving dish for $7 at a thrift store (and a green wood chair for Alex - $3, a 14 piece punch bowl set for $20 and an adorable bright orange mini pitcher/vase for $2), Alex and I had fun riding the choo choo train again, the house got cleaned, I folded and put away the laundry the same day I did it and Alexandra was absolutely in love with me which damn, just feels so good.

Oh, and I never mentioned here that I am queen of storytime again! For the first year or longer I was the go-to reader for book time before night night. Then BOOM Todd was the shining star in an otherwise bleak night sky, and basically for the year after that, I was ousted, left alone to sit on the floor with my back against her changing table dresser. NOT ANYMORE, BABY! I'm back, and it feels great.

Anyways, everything just seemed nice this week. Things got done, love got spread, joy was experienced, and things just felt a little more... orderly. Except last night when halfway through dinner prep, RIGHT before I was going to draw Alex's tub, I realized I was out of the key ingredient of my sauce. So off to the store we went. BUT Alex was so cute and fun and helped me carry the basket so who cares right?

This morning was nice too. I mean, I still hit snooze as many times as possible, but then Bingley came to purr on me, and then Alex woke up which I always secretly love cause I get to see her before I leave. Todd brought her into bed for snuggles. And then, in true Bingley fashion, this happened:

God, he always looks so surly, like he's half a beer away from punching my lights out. Anyways, folks, that's his sweet look, and that is what I see every workday morning. He perches on my jewelry box and basically watches me get ready in the morning. He even let me pet him after I was done. Like, what is this rose colored world I've been dropped into?

I got dressed, kissed Alex and Todd and got ready to ride my bike to work when the best sentence ever came, dressed in a toddler shriek, from the bedroom: I WANT ONE MORE KISS!

Yes ma'am!

Happy weekend to everyone!

These two.

Like, God Bingley, get a life. Or a girlfriend or something.

I guess he just likes the company. Patton is obviously like IDGAF (acronyms and intent are NOT cussing okay), so you know that the lion's share of love comes from the dang cat. Which fascinates me since he doesn't seem to even like any of us.



 He's totally calling me out for my judgment. And probably for my intrusion as well. SUCK IT UP CAT. You eat my food and scratch my baby. FEEL THE JUDGMENT.



They're like the Odd Couple. Ice T and Coco. Forrest and Jenny. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle I BITE.

Camp.

This past holiday weekend, we went camping for a couple of nights to celebrate a friend's birthday. The weather was gorgeous and we were able to enjoy the run of the mill camping activities like a good long hike with the dogs, and a sunset beer up on a high ridge, overlooking the gorgeous hills, nooks and crannies that are hallmarks of the area. And we saw a lot of deer poop!

I had been really looking forward to that hike, but I have to say that some serious enjoyment went down when I holed up in our tent, cozied up under blankets to protect against the buffeting wind, with a glass of wine and a magazine. Todd, Ryan and Dwayne set up chairs and put up numerous targets against the high hill across the wash, and did some "plinking" which, for those who do not know, is shooting a small caliber gun at small targets, like cans. So they sat there, shooting the breeze, smoking cigars and drinking beers and shooting cans. Every man's dream, right?

They were so thoroughly enjoying themselves that I had to take some photos. But if you recall, I was seriously enjoying myself, so like heck I was moving out of that tent. But luckily, the breeze came to my rescue, blew up the tent's fly and I was able to snap some shots. Check out these good ol' boys.

Can't you just smell the cigar smoke, wafting on the breeze and through your monitor?

Can't you hear the little ping ping of Todd's .22 rifle Winchester thingie (I think that was it), and the subsequent bellows of triumph when they'd send those cans flying off the rock?

Can't you just imagine the high pitched wining sounds from an over-eager German shepherd who so desperately wanted to chase every single stupid bullet because OMG CHASING THINGS and never mind being third smartest dog breed?

Brothers From Another Mother.

That's all I have to say.

The Gift of Reading.

Well what do we have here? I guess Patton lamented to Alexandra about not having a lot of reading material lying around at his disposal.

"DOGS CANNOT READ" you scream. "This picture is such a set up!! Alexandra is dumb for thinking dogs can read!!"

Oh yeah?

Death of a Dog Bed.

Saturday night, my mom and stepdad came over to watch Alex so we could go party down with friends, and they had a great time. I have a feeling, though, that they left Patton outside for the majority of that time, because apparently he had a good time too. It's like he knew I just did a Bingley post and wanted in on the action. Just take a gander.

This is just one portion of the yard that was utterly covered. The grass patch was littered with stuffing. The area by the gate was covered. There was fluff on the patio. There was fluff in potted plants. It was impressive in its coverage. I literally said "OH MY GOD." when I opened the rolling shutter that covers the sliding glass doors. Even Alexandra knew something was amiss.

You know, we had just gotten finished discussing how awesome and gorgeous Patton was, when he came in to visit us that Sunday morning. I guess we spoke too soon! Or too kindly. I know the bed probably thinks so.

That right there is $30 and a PetSmart membership card. If I hadn't have gotten the membership discount, it would have been $50 and Patton would be dead right now. Needless to say, we won't be buying another PetSmart bed, and I urge you dog owners to avoid them as well. Kirkland needs to restock their $20 big dog beds. Those stupid ones with the bumper on two sides is too small, and I am not paying $40 for something that will just end up partially digested.

Pets. I tell you.

Bingley.

Just look at that smug son of a bitch. Full of self-entitlement and Kirkland brand cat food. He's 10lbs now. I found that out after spending about $120 on him at the vet after he decided to get into a tussle with something obviously much, much larger than he, all because he is a jerk who caterwauls in the middle of the night until you let him out. Regardless of the dangers lurking in a midnight desert neighborhood. So they weighed him at the vet, and he's 10lbs. I don't know why this pisses me off, unless it's just further proof that all I do is feed this fucker despite the way he treats the family (Patton excluded).

Anyways, despite that warm and fuzzy intro paragraph, I've actually grown fond of him. I'll never love him the way I loved Kittums because Kittums was like my familiar, and would sleep belly to belly with me. If I ever did that with Bingley I'd wake up with no face. But I have affectionate feelings for him now. It only took a year!

He's definitely mellowed out now, though and that has a major impact on our day to day interactions. Thank God we chopped his balls off, is all I have to say. Now he lets me pet him which is just such a bizarre thing. I almost forgot that the purpose of even owning a cat is to share a little love instead of possible inter-species tranmissible diseases through blood contact.

And I have to say that perhaps my re-thinking how I behave during our interactions has had a positive effect. See, about six or seven months ago if I tried to pet him he'd immediately sink his claws and teeth into me. He wouldn't let go so I'd have to pry him off and throw him to the ground, trying desperately not to cry like a baby. We tried spraying him with water, everything. Eventually we just made up a rhyme to remind Alex that he sucks ("orange and white, loves to bite") and then stopped touching him altogether.

Hey, maybe THAT is the reason he purrs now when we scratch his ears and massage the back of his neck (any other area appears to be strictly off limits), and lets us pick him up. Maybe a few months of laissez faire made him realize that a little human love isn't such a bad thing. There's been times that I have walked into a room and he will lift his head and look at me with kindness. He will actually semi seek out some loves from me. And then I'm turned into a teenage girl whose crush glanced at her in the hallway so I run off to tell Todd that the cat let me pet him and didn't try to bite me. Yes. It's that rare.

He's still a pain in the ass. Do you know, if one of us sleeps in, the fucking cat will actually come into the BEDROOM to caterwaul that he wants back out after his breakfast. He will walk past Todd or me, awake and sipping a caffinated beverage, to go into the BEDROOM TO WAIL. I mean, if that is not the very definition of sadistic shit, I do not know what is.

And he still bites. I seem to have tamed the beast a little more than Todd. Instead of dropping him to the floor after getting bitten, I lightly blow a little air in his face, which is just such an affront to his sensibilities he stops immediately to stare at me as if I just served him cold french fried or paired steak with warm white wine. Then I set him down on the sofa or something. But yeah, he still bites. He bites Todd when he picks him up. He bites Alex on the forehead when she tries to hug him (me: Alex, remember about Bingley? Alex, forlornly: "orange an' white, love a bite"). The only one who receives his unadulterated and unconditional love is Patton. Which really, why?

In conclusion, he's a bastard, but he's our bastard. And I think I've literally written that sentence in another Bingley post. He's funny, he's weird, he's a jerk, but I just described everyone on the internet ever, so I guess he's normal. Plus, I know he'll stick around longer than any other cat we've ever owned, any other cat on the goddamn planet, so I might as well just resolve myself to loving him. He just may end up choosing my nursing home.

Randoms.

1. Bingley got into a fight with some creature on Monday. His right hind leg was jacked up, there were cuts all over his mouth and a slice in the delicate part of his right ear. He was filthy, covered in oil spots from, most likely, hunkering down under a car all night which leads me to believe that it was not another cat he was fighting, but something much larger that wasn't able to follow him under there.

He refused to eat or drink anything, despite our encouragements, for like two days. He kept trying to pee though, which made us think maybe his bladder had been bruised in the assault. Finally I got Alex's medicine dropper thing and used it to dose the goddamn cat with water, which seemed to really help. And considering that the poor bastard just laid there in my arms, lapping as the water squirted into his mouth, I think he really needed it.

By Thursday there was no improvement on the pee front, so I took him to the vet. 90 minutes and $120 bucks later, we had a cat with a bunch of fluids injected under his skin and two types of drugs to give him. And he only hissed at me and swatted me like once! Wow, what a grateful little motherfucker. I bought him some canned wet food to help increase his hydration and triumphantly fought all my urges to wring his neck and take him to small claims court.

2. After two years of living in this house we finally finished painting it. Todd wrapped up the hallway on Sunday, removing the huge and broken down doorbell box from above the thermostat (and even patching up over the small tangle of wires that were protruding from just beside the front door knob outside the house), and patching up the hole where he had ripped out the hall light from the ceiling after smacking his head into it one too many times (he's 6'7"). It looks a lot better, so much so that we have to wonder why we waited so long. I guess after living with crap for a period of time renders you sort of numb to the unsightliness. Now if I could just get him to gut the kitchen and bathroom...

3. Tuesday night we ordered Chinese food from our favorite place, which also delivers, Szechuan Omei. I finally got something different and MY GOD I am so glad I did: Singapore mei fun. I googled it to figure out what it was to make sure I'd like it (hey white girl) and was surprised to find that it is a very standard basic thing that all American Chinese chefs have to master, much like fried rice. I got it and it was SO delicious, very straightforward in flavors but absolutely tantalizing. It had a smoky sort of BBQ flavor. It consists of super thin, angel-hair style noodles (I think made of rice), scallions, bits of what looked like BBQ pork, some shrimp, bean sprouts and I believe curry. SO GOOD. I want to get it again. Like right now. For second breakfast (I am a hobbit).

4. I'm becoming re-hooked to BBC shows, mostly due to my now ravenous hunger to live in the UK or at the very least somewhere in the US that has grass, cold weather and a legitimate fall weather wardrobe that includes sweaters instead of shorts and flip flops. It's starting to drive me crazy. I've had a yen to move out of Tucson for awhile, but it really set in around May, before summer even began, because I was so fucking sick of being hot all the goddamn time. I want grass for my child to run in, I want to accessorize with layers and shoes and socks, I want to let the dog out in the afternoon without fear he'll die of heat stroke. I wear flip flops because I cannot STAND IT when my feet get hot and my feet are always hot here. My own body is telling me to GTFO. But our families are here, and a ton of our friends and loved ones. I guess I need to convince everyone to move to Scotland.

5. I buckled and re-signed up with the YMCA in anticipation of my Platinum Fitness membership expiring next month. The only thing I'll miss is the cardio theatre room, and since they offer memberships for 9.95 a month, no contracts required, I'm also seriously considering just signing up with Platinum and having two memberships. I mean, while signed up at Platinum I was starting to buckle and pay the $10 day pass to the YMCA just so I could swim in their 25 yard pool because it is truly a superior workout to a measly 15 yard pool. So if I was willing to pay ten bucks for a one shot, why not pay ten bucks for the chance to do the elliptical while watching a movie a couple of times a week? Is having two gym memberships even a thing? Is that crazy? I'm worth it for sure, but... Ehh. I will petition the YMCA to get a cardio theatre?

6. Once Upon A Time is back on and I'm going batshit crazy for its epic awesomeness. WHO IS DR. WHALE. Who is the Mystery Man in the opening scene? Is he Henry's dad? Is he Baelfare, Rumpelstiltskin's son? BOTH? Or is he Peter Pan or the White Rabbit? Will Philip be brought back to life? Will he bone Aurora AND Mulan? Who gave Mulan a bump-it for her hair and how does she do that hairstyle in the woods? Does Aurora help? WHO IS DR. WHALE??

Back from Vacation.

I feel like my writing mojo is completely gone. I have started, and deleted, a start to this twice. This is my third attempt and I'm hoping brutal honesty in regards to my shortcomings today will spark a little creativity, a little pizzazz, a little oomph.

I guess if I'm talking about food and making sexual euphemisms, I'm a goddamn genius. If I'm trying to write about a family vacation, I'm a moron.

Last Thursday we left for a week long vacation, visiting Todd's uncle Steve and his fabulous wife, Chris. Their house is gorgeous, in Point Loma on the tippy-top of a hill, with a big flat back yard and a great ocean view of downtown San Diego. The first two days I struggled enormously with jealousy over the weather and beautiful environment. Point Loma is extremely charming, with steep hills, cute store fronts and an amazing diversity in architectures. I love that about the area. Usually in neighborhoods you see a theme in housing structures. Usually the same architect will have designed several of the houses, but not in PL. Every house stands out, and every house is charming. The landscaping is gorgeous. The breezes are actually cool, even in August. Birds chirp. Roses bloom and their fragrance wafts to and fro, hitting you 10 feet away from the actual flower. It's intoxicating, the beauty.

Then you get on the freeway and the rose's perfume, once heady, dissolves into a palpable fury as a sign informs you that it will take, on average, 60 minutes to drive the last 30 miles of your trip. Traffic comes to a complete standstill. It's only 10:30am on a Tuesday. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE. WHAT DID I DO TO ANGER GOD SO HORRIBLY

Anyways.

1. Alexandra knows about planes but on this trip she learned about helicopters too. I take that back. She's known about them but has never really shown an interest in them. But since the poor little thing was stuck in a car for a large part of the trip (oh Long Beach, you were so ugly, and the drive took 4.5 hours of my life), looking out the window was a major source of entertainment, and for some reason there are a crap load of helicopters in southern California.

Alex calls them "colla-hoppers" which is SO ADORABLE I could punch myself, happily, in the face, all day long. COLLA HOPPER DADA! COLLA HOPPER, MAMA! COLLA HOPPER!!

AAAAH

2. Patton. Oh, Patton. Did I mention we took him with us? Steve and Chris were so sweet to let us bring him, except that Todd forgot to notify them that we were bringing him since a year ago they told us next time we visit, we should bring Patton since he and Ivan (their labrador) get along like a house on fire. So of course we get there and Chris is like "Oh, you brought Patton? We didn't... we didn't know.. We're dog sitting right now." Yay! We're stupid assholes! Of course, they were extremely gracious and accepting and so from Thursday to Saturday night, there were three big idiot dogs gamboling about and drooling on each other and fighting for control of Who Gets To Boss The Door which, of course, went to 100lb Patton.

ANYWAYS. The thing that stands out most about Mr P-Man is his dedication and loyalty, that out-shone the brightest star ever when we went to the dog beach on Coronado Island which is not an island at all but should be considering how fucking expensive it is to live there. "We can't help it, we're an island! It's all about imports here! That will be $11 for your latte!" (I don't actually drink lattes and never had that conversation but I KNOW IT EXISTS).

Goddammit, I can't stay on track, and I'm not even drunk. OKAY so Patton! We went to the dog beach and Patton, having never been to the ocean before, expertly concealed the fact that his mind was utterly blown (it had to have been right?), by instantly leaping into the water to try and steal everyone else's tennis ball. He then proceeded to steal, and promptly deflate, a little blow up ball that a TODDLER was playing with.

Thanks, asshole! The boy's dad was super sweet and hey, we're at a dog beach. Balls are an endagered species here. But then, Patton does it again, this time stealing a volleyball from a pack of adults who were juuuuust about to play soccer with it or something. The look on the woman's face as Patton snaps his huge fuckface jaws on her ball, the pop sound of the ball deflating, very audible over the roaring ocean, was so humiliating, and I just... Ugh. They were really kind about it, letting me know it was only a $2.50 ball from Albertson's, that it was no big deal, and if I wanted I could keep the dead ball. Which Patton did, actually, for the remainder of the day.

Apparently it quenched his thirst for ball carnage, and we got down to some epic fetching. That dog, who had never before seen the ocean, took off headlong into waves and oncoming surf to get that damn deflated ball (which we named Wilson, naturally). Another German shepherd was there, apparently to demonstrate to Patton how annoying German shepherds are when they want to herd someone, but Patton was unfazed by him. Darting in and out of crowds, around that stupid dog, into the ocean he went, over and over and over again.

I know he was exhausted when Todd and I decided to go swim, but here is the whole point of me bringing up Patton (except all the complaining I just did): he didn't leave us. Ever. The surf came in, the water deepened, bringing him up off his feet, but still he stayed by our sides, determined to bring us to shore safely, utterly convinced we were all going to die a watery, salty death. Todd went out farther and it was all I could do to keep that dog from following. "Noooo dad, nooo! Come baaack!" All with Wilson firmly clamped in his jaws.

I love that dog. I wanted to beat the shit out of him last night when he was barking furiously at a neighbor he both knows and utterly adores, but I just kept the image of a soaked Patton, dog paddling furiously, ears down from either the wet or the injustice of it all, deflated volleyball in his jaws, and a look of determination and absolutel adoration in his sweet puppy eyes.

3. Sea World has turkey legs now! They were delicious! And there is this game there? Where you like, do skee ball sort of, to make your little Shamu race to the finish line? And when I was 12, visiting there with my dad, I won the game like 10 times and won 10 little shamus? YEAH. I STILL OWN THAT FUCKING GAME. Alex has a big old Shamu now.

Todd also kicked some major ass at the frog game, where you hit the mallet and send the frog flying into a lily pad. Alex now has two froggies.

I don't know what else to say about Sea World except two year olds on no naps and slathered in sunblock really couldn't give two shits about Elmo's Bay of Play. The Cirque de la Mer is a clusterfuck to her. The Arctic Circle and Penguins were rad, and it was nice to pick up a starfish, but that's not worth over $100 for tickets (we even got $40 off with a coupon). So I don't know. I'm not taking her back until she's at least six or has a part time job to help cover expenses. Our lunch, of two turkey legs, two ears of corn and two Buds was fifty fucking dollars. Thank God I started hooking on the side, right!

4. Alexandra loved the beach. We got her all jazzed up, before we left home, while packing. She started putting Ha Ha and Elmo into purses and bags and would say "Get ready. Go to the BEACH" which was adorable. But then when we got there she was all hell NO I do not like sand in my gladiator sandals SO PICK ME UP despite the cooler, purse, bag of towels and chairs we were carrying. But then, Todd got her interested in burying her feet in the sand and then popping them up. Then we got her super into getting her legs and torso dunked into the surf after a wave came rolling in, and then, miracle of MIRACLES, Todd got her all into running along the shoreline which, you guys? In a cute little swimsuit and her hair in a high ponytail? I was done, it was so cute. Just done.

The day we spent, the three of us, at the beach in Del Mar was idyllic. The sun was out and the weather was super warm, the water wasn't too cold, I conquered my fear of waves (just don't ask, ok) and enjoyed myself even though later Todd told me he saw a sand shark, Alex had fun, we had fun, it was just fun. Fun fun fun. No pictures though! Hey moron!

God this post is so long. I'm pretty tan now! I ate a lot of delicious sea food and had one hell of a martini at The Brigantine. I bought over $100 in books at Bookstar. Ummm. That's it.

Bad Butts!

Now just where do they think they're going? 

The Great Escape.

I just want to point out that he shoveled himself into the small front pocket of the suitcase, not the like, actual part where clothes go. This is the pocket where you stick your magazines, or the cell phone charger you almost forgot. Crap, this reminds me, I need to charge my phone.

He is so surly when he looks at me.

"It's cozy as hell in here, lady, I don't care what you think. But that flash is starting to tick me off."

And just like that, he swats my face. Such a respectful little guy.

That Darn Cat.

You know what they say, location is everything. Let me tell you how true this is, through photography.

From above it doesn't look so... offensive.

But, and I do mean but, from another angle, it looks, well...

Like the eye of Sauron, on a day at the beach, I guess?

Randoms.

1. Alexandra fell asleep on me last night while I watched Once Upon A Time, and made me think back to her infancy. When she'd fall asleep on me I'd just sit there in heaven, desperate to pee, ravenous and thirsty. It didn't matter; I was happiest just soaking up the baby love, slightly sweaty from the little baby furnace curled up on me. It was absolute heaven last night, watching Snow White kick ass while Alexandra dreamed away on my chest. And it was super rad how Todd and I changed her into an overnight diaper without even waking her up. But I will admit it was also pretty nice peeing after we placed her sleeping little body in her crib on a commercial break.

2. I am officially over that "Somebody That I Used To Know" song by Gotye. It's on every goddamn channel on the radio, and it's played every single day on every single one of them. I no longer care that she had her friends collect her records, that she treats him like a stranger, or that he screwed her over and couldn't get over an old flame. Go screw yourselves, Gotye and Kimbra. You were in my head on repeat this morning from 5am to when I finally fell back asleep by forcing myself to think of the Harry Potter theme.

3. Speaking of 5am this morning, I had an attack of my allergies. First I was so stuffed up I couldn't breathe. So I blew my nose a couple of times and then had to go use some Afrin. Then I apparently blew my nose another seven times (Todd, moved by a pity that is shocking considering I woke him up at 5am to blow my nose, counted how many times I had to do it) after a sneezing fit. Thankfully I didn't sneeze out the Afrin awesomeness, because I finally was able to breathe. I hate you allergies. Flowers, you suck. Trees, you're all a bunch of jerks.

4. We had pizza last night from Papa Murphy's. I strongly urge all of you, ALL OF YOU, to go there and get the taco pizza. Holy crap, that thing was like heaven. It was two indulgences, pizza and Mexican food, combining forces to create what can only be described as another wonder of the world, or to my diet plan, maybe another Horcrux. I told Todd last night, if only they could have found a way to include a ribeye steak and some pasta carbonara. Although had they figured that out the sun probably would have went nova from the sheer epicness.

5. Saturday, as I furiously scrubbed out more butt stains from another piece of furniture, I was back to hating the cat. But then this morning he lounged on the bathroom counter, purring, hanging out with me while I put my makeup on so I guess I'm back to kind of liking him. I need to find kitty diapers I guess.

Cat.

So... Okay, so I know I always sound really mean about the pets, especially the cat. Even when I post about how rad Patton is, I usually include all his insanely annoying habits (licking sweat off my arms after I come home from the gym makes me want to throw up everything, like throw up the whole world). And then there's the cat.

Have I even done a positive Bingley post since the day we got him? Mostly that's because approximately an hour after I took all the cute kitten photos on the evening we got him, he took an enormous wet crap and stepped in it and basically did that twice a day, every day for like three weeks.

That starts to wear a person down, after awhile.

Bingley's most favorite things to do are:

-Bite people
-Scratch Alex
-Attack the dog
-Drink water from ANYWHERE BUT HIS WATER BOWL. This means toilets while you're still USING them, vases of flowers, my glass of iced tea, water from the sink while you are washing your face
-Run through the back door and hide in the thorny bushes
-Taking lots of shits and still occasionally stepping in it
-Caterwauling between the hours of 3am and 5am
-Never washing his butthole and therefore leaving poopy imprints on our couch and bed

Oh God, why do we still have this cat?

Because, he's Bingley. And for some fucked up reason we all still seem to like him, at least, when one of us isn't scrubbing poop stain off micro-suede and since Alex doesn't do that (YET), I mean, when Todd and I aren't scrubbing poop stain off micro-suede. Because when we do that task, it's all we can do not to throttle him.

Anyways, I digress. I don't know what from, but I do digress. On our Epic Date Night, the rat bastard kepet trying to escape outside, and since our previous two cats were devoured by coyotes, outside time is strictly forbidden. But date night was special. We were jolly, high on life, and decided to give Bingley a little taste of supervised freedom.

He sat pretty calmly in Todd's lap for awhile, more than likely plotting revenge or escape or both. But it was nice spending a wee bit of time with him. Plus, his butt was clean so there was no imminent fecal threat.

That picture is my favorite. "My God, it's full of stars!"

Anyways, I can't promise a heart full of pure, fiery love whenever I think of this cat. But we actually do love him, and we're keeping him. Even though Todd, just the other day, said if he wails in the hallway at 4am one more time he's getting kicked out in the back yard to which I had to say "We can't kill him just because he's meowing" to which Todd replied "We can't?" Because he is sweet, on his own time. Oh my God, the other day you guys? He came up to me? On the bed? And curled up? AND PURRED?! And I was like "Todd wake up Bingley is purring and I don't know what to make of it" and the weirdest thing was that Todd actually did wake up to go "No shit?"

Patton.

I haven't talked about the pets in awhile, and since Bingley's favorite things to do are getting shit stains on our comforter, biting my daughter and drinking water out of every water receptacle except his own damn water dish, I think I will focus on the vastly more noble Patton.

Look at that face. Happy, eager to please, desperately hoping you're about to throw a stick. Loving, emotionally invested in the family, doesn't get shit stains on the comforter. Doesn't even get on the bed or the leather sofa because he is so smart. Just the ratty-tatty sofa in the TV room. That is Patton's domain, his lounge, his bed now that we lost patience with the shredded dog bed he was systematically dissecting all over the house and yard.

Anyways, there's a certain reason I'd like to talk about this dog, aside from all his awesome and exasperating qualities. I want to talk about his stoicism. Hell, the stoicism of all dogs but since Patton is king of all canines, this post is for him.

I finally broke down and washed the big guy about a week ago, and since the inside of my cement-floored house looked like a make out van complete with shag carpeting and furry walls, I decided I'd brush him while wet, then walk him to dry him off, then brush him AGAIN.

I wish shedding made money. That's how bad it is.

Anyways, so I'm outside brushing him and the fur is coming off in damp clumps that look gross enough to warrant Alexandra's shrieking and screaming "OH NO, POOPIES!" which was hilarious but also, sort of true. Fur poopies? I got to his back legs, his butt basically where all the fur just poofs out, and I went to work. Naturally, he fidgeted in place, looking back constantly to see what I was doing. But he never moved. He never put a paw out of place. He just let me work my magic, brush brush brush, shake the fur off the brush, eventually use my hands to remove the fur, fur is wet still and sticks to my hand, I start feeling like Alexandra does about the fur poopies, back to brush brush brush.

After several minutes of this routine, I happen to glance down at Patton's back legs, and I see blood. Not gushing or anything, but I had definitely nicked both his legs. This poor dog, whose stupid mom was brushing him with a metal loop brush too close to the rear, um, foot thingy, stood there and took it. Never growled or snapped at me. Never questioned my authority (which is a big deal with German shepherds). I felt so mortified, and immediately stopped and gave him like five dog bones and tons of wet damp-fur kisses.

I think the issue was the wet fur; it wasn't as voluminous and therefore the teeth of the brush were getting through it all, down to the skin. I still cringe when I think about how horribly it must have smarted. And he just sucked it up and stood beside me the entire time.

That right there is a perfect example of how wonderful this dog is. We have video of him play fighting with the cat, lots of growls and open jaws and putting whole kitty body parts in his mouth, but always gentle. And to top it off, while he's lying there not killing the cat, Alexandra is treating him like her Wonder Horse, and is sitting astride his back, bouncing mercilessly up and down. Basically he was playing nanny to both of them, keeping them entertained and safe. Well, until he got fed up with the cat and left the room, toppling Alex over onto the rug.

I love you Patton, P-Man, Big Guy, Pa-tatten, Da-gah, Goddamn Dog, Get Out Of The Kitchen and all your other illustrious nick names. I am so sorry, and I promise to always use gentle strokes around your back legs, and to never brush you while wet again. Also if you get muddy prints on my clean kitchen floor tonight before Alex's party, holy hell.