Strange and Wonderful

I think one of the greatest things about my family is how we are impulsive and do the unexpected, and that's Ok. Just today, Jim offered to get me a new grill for Mother's Day. Not flowers, not a trip for dinner, not any of the traditional gifts. I loved it. I laughed and said, "That's what I was getting you for Father's Day!"

One of the places we are definitely strange is in our choice of pets. When we were younger, we had a cat who would play fetch. He was named Thud (he wasn't very graceful). Ever since then, we've always carefully selected and named our pets so that they would live up to his bizarre standard.

First came a female Rottweiler from the local shelter. Her name is Bill Smith. (It's a family name.)

Second came an English Bulldog. A little female dog who acts like a cat. She looks like a wrinkly old man and therefore bears the name Daisy.

Finally comes our newest addition. A cat with the name of a dog. Meet Rufus.
Once he's feeling a bit more comfortable and comes out of his cat box, I'll take a better picture of him for you.

Of Stupid Dogs and Headaches

Today, I had a Headache. It was not quite a migraine, as it responded to the Alieve that I took, but still worthy of a capital H.

You know those Headaches: they're the ones that color the rest of the events of your day. It's never a pleasant color either, nothing sweet like "Prince Purple" or "Periwinkle" or "Puce". No, it's more like "Parsnip" or "Puke". Yup.

Where was I?

Oh, yes, my dog puked on the floor today. Twice. Because she's dumb. Not sick, just stupid. Apparently she chewed on a bone until it splintered, then ate the splinters, then ate a pine tree branch, then ate a few rocks (maybe she thought she was a chicken?). How do I know this? Because my canine mulch making machine left me a pile of it. Twice.

I love my stupid, stick eating dog Bill. She's the best.

So where was I?

Oh, yes. So when your dogs are dumb and irritating, AND you've a Headache, AND the garbage men refuse to change their schedules to match your Headache's whims, life is blech-y. Tomorrow is garbage day, and the tree must go. I have a Headache. Jim (ever-loving husband, for you new readers - welcome!) has a Headache and a half. The tree must go.

So.... we pile the ornaments in a sheet to contain the glitter, bundle it up, and put them in a chair. We detatch the tree stand and take the tree outside to remove the lights. We unwind maybe a third of one strand, look at each other, and I say, "You know, we could always buy new lights next year...." (I couldn't believe I said it. Me! The queen of don't throw that away! I can use it for ... uh ... something!)

"No! We just bought these."

"Ok. Well, here, unwind some more."

We try. The cord gets stuck. He pulls. I pull. We figure out it's wrapped on a branch somewhere, but we're both wearing gloves because the tree is so darn dry and pokey, and we can't figure it out. Our eyes meet over the tree again. "You know..." he starts.

"Yeah," I said.

We took the tree to the curb. I sheepishly tried to tuck some of the lights back in so maybe the garbage guys won't notice tomorrow that the lights are still there.

--sigh-- I need another Alieve.