My Burnin’ Loins and the 2.5 Seconds I Resembled Siobhan Magnus

I have realized that I am really bad about timely posting, but I can rationalize this by saying that life isn’t always timely.

Moving on…

We had an awesomely awesome Fourth of July getaway at our family cabin in Hayward, Wisconsin. The four and a half days of sun, alcohol, food, family, fireworks, and laughs were much needed.

I even got to go fishing with my Dad and Husband and on the first day proceeded to catch the only fish worth catching; only to have my fishing line snap just as its bass lips reached the surface of the water. Husband obviously doubted my abilities and deemed my two-pound test line as adequate despite my protest that I would undoubtedly reel in the catch of the day. Oh well. Everyone has their own “one that got away” story, mine just happens to be about a fish.

All that time spent on the boat also led to another unfortunate incident.

::Back Story:: I am the fairest skinned girl you will ever cross paths with. I think it’s a combination of being from Minnesota, and the fact that I have a sun allergy wicked enough to confine me to a hotel room during my 11th grade spring break trip to the Bahamas. But that’s a whole other story.

Let’s do some math.

White meat + reflective lake sun + SPF 4 tanning lotion applied liberally + 4 hours on a boat = Burnin’ loins. Literally.

Exhibit A.




Yes, it was as painful as it looks, but not enough to ruin my vacation!

Ode to Optics, aka Why I Changed My Dog’s Name to “Shit-head.”

Of all the things Calvin has chewed, I have never once wept over the destruction…

…until Sunday morning at 1:34 a.m.



::Back Story:: Calvin sleeps on our bed, if he gets too hot he jumps off and goes downstairs and sleeps in his kennel.::

Not this time.

At approximately 1:34 a.m. on Sunday June 27, 2010 I awoke to the most awful crunching sound I have ever heard in my life coming from under our bed. Being a self-proclaimed Mr. Magoo, I rolled over to reach for my glasses off of the night stand. After a few failed attempts at feeling around for them, a mental light bulb turned on and I realized that the very item I was reaching for was probably the very item Calv decided to snack on.

I immediately dropped to the floor, grabbed a flashlight out of the night stand, lifted the bed skirt, and found a very nervous Corgi looking at me like a deer in the headlights. Next to him were (what was left of) my glasses.

Exhibit A















::Side Note:: When I first grabbed the glasses, the part of the frame that holds the right nose pad was completely vertical and I fortunately got it back in place without snapping it off. This picture also does not do much justice, but the actual nose pads, and the right ear piece are completely chewed.

Husband, knowing that I would kill the dog, immediately grabbed Calv and escorted him downstairs to his kennel while I sobbed over the remains of my specs.

Now, normally I wouldn’t have gotten so upset over a pair of glasses. HOWEVER I have only had these glasses for 1 one year…and prior to that had not replaced them since I was a junior.

…In high school.

Fortunately this story has a happy ending. Fifteen minutes at the eye clinic over my break this morning and $10.20 later, the damage was repaired; minus the chipped paint where he chewed, but that is cosmetic and will not affect my comfort or vision so I deal. Had the nose piece actually snapped off – the bill would have been more around $150…yikes.

And while I am still on the topic of canine catastrophes…

Later Sunday morning after breakfast I was cleaning up in the kitchen when Husband walked over and asked me to hold Reese for a minute. Soon after taking baby girl, I spotted husband out of the corner of my eye sweeping something up off of the kitchen floor ever-so-quietly. I ran over to see a couple of our WEDDING flowers partially shredded all over the floor. Husband, knowing that I was still irate from the glasses incident tried to clean up the mess before I noticed. No such luck.

::Side Note:: I keep the dried flowers in a basket on the under-shelf of a small table in our kitchen. This table has not been dusted in a couple weeks.::

I went over to the flower basket to check the destruction and it was then that I realized Calvin had an accomplice.

Exhibit B














The accomplice, who shall remain nameless, is described as being 4-years-old, 42” tall, and approximately 41 lbs. He still denies any and all allegations.

Rain, rain go away.

It's been raining and cloudy here for almost the last week. Jack is getting stir crazy and needs to just get outside to release some of his energy before he drives me up a wall. Thankfully there is talk of the sun and 70-degree weather returning just in time for the weekend.

Speaking of this weekend, Husband and I are taking a little road trip to Wisconsin to gather with family at a benefit for my cousin who lost her husband a few months ago. The whole situation makes me so mad because of how unfair it all seems. He wasn't supposed to leave her like this to raise four boys under five years old, but fortunately she has an amazing support system that will be there for her every step of the way - including Husband and I, even though we are miles away. We are so excited to see them and can't wait to make the trip. This will be a great weekend.

While Husband and I are away, the kids are going to Husband's parent's house. Jack can't wait to see the sheep, chase the ducks, and take a hike in the woods with Grandpa and Fitz (Fitz is their beagle).

Any who, on a lighter note:

Last night I made Jack dinner and left him alone for a minute at the table while I went upstairs to get Reese into her pajamas. After what couldn't have been more than 30 seconds I hear Jack scream and burst into a hysterical crying fit. I asked what happened - to which he replied "I accidentally spilled my dinner!". I looked into the kitchen and just about the entire contents of the kitchen table were scattered all over the floor. I didn't ask, nor did I even what to know what the hay he was doing to cause the mess in the first place. I cleaned it up, wiped his tears, and Husband made him a a PB&J sandwich. Maybe I should have invested in a spill mat when I had the chance...

Our landscapers are idiots.

::back story:: Being a new home owner with little to no gardening experience, a girl at work gave me some irises to plant in our backyard last summer. Calvin proceeded to dig them up and destroy them, leaving me with sad green stalks that stood for the rest of the season. I looked forward to the next year when they would make their comeback...


This year, my previously destroyed irises were finally coming back full force. Although they hadn't bloomed yet, they still looked a heck of a lot healthier than they did last year. And bonus, the dog was even leaving them alone! It was looking to be a good plant year...

...until yesterday.

After getting home from work I went to let the dog out the back door. To my HORROR I saw that our IDIOT landscapers had been there earlier that day mowing the lawn and weed whacking. Not only did they cut down the weeds in our rock bed, they absolutely mutilated my plants! Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I would like to think that a LANDSCAPER would know the difference between a dandelion and a healthy pre-bloomed plant! Iris leaves were scattered all over the yard and all Husband could do was laugh.

I guess I really wasn't meant to have flowers.

The day Sophie lost her squeak...

After months of reading rave reviews on Sophie (courtesy of the ladies on the Bump), I broke down and paid the $15 for the overpriced squeaky giraffe. And up until yesterday, it was $15 well spent.

Reese loved her, mostly because it was easiest thing (secondary to her feet) to get into her mouth. The squeak of the giraffe also brought the dog running to her, which she found to be extremely hilarious. Sophie then became known as the "Calvin call".

...until yesterday.

After an extensive nomming session, Sophie's squeak is no more. We can't figure out what happened, other than a probable drowning in drool, that has caused Sophie to sound like an emphysemia patient.

Sad thing is, although I know how much Reese enjoys Sophie, I just can't bring myself to pay the $15 for a replacement. I guess She will just have to learn enjoy Sophie's new "voice". It's never too early to teach your kids about acceptance. :)

FYI

The Circo Step Stool w/ Storage from Target has a weight capacity of 50 lbs and is not meant to accomodate an adult female weighing approx 117 lbs who attempts to ascend said stool with a running start. BIG FAIL.

Allow me to explain...

Calvin, our Pembroke Welsh Corgi, likes to go on our bed.

::side note::If you have never seen a Corgi, picture a 30 pound hotdog with 5" legs.

His lack of leg length makes him too short to jump up (he's made it a couple times, but has a 95% rate of failure). We got Jack, my 4-year-old, a stool with 2 steps from Target to use in the bathroom when he brushes his teeth. Being the practical and clever soul I am I thought that Calvin would use it as a staircase to get on the bed.

Boy was I wrong.


He wouldn't even try to use it, even after I physically put him on it. I thought maybe if he saw me use it then he would give it a try.



First I walked up it - no big deal, but he still didn't follow me.



Then I thought maybe I had to get him excited so I decided to get a running start in attempt to have him chase me up it - not a good idea.



Next thing I know I am on the floor and (what used to be) the stool is in 3+ pieces with the bottom step caved in. Had I known that the dang stool was being held together with what I am assuming was nothing more than swingline staples, I probably would have thought twice about my actions.



As I am rolling in pain and tears from hysterical laughter, I looked up to Husband who was giving me the side eye, and Calvin who was looking at me like I was an idiot.

Thankfully the only thing I broke was that stupid stool, and my pride.