Hopeless...

Conversation. Of. The. Day

Video chatting with the in laws, whom Katie adores, when The Shrew commences destructive chewing on couch. In a voice filled with warning she says-


Katie: Ryker, keep that up and you're fixin' for a nap.

Stops. Gasps. Stares at husband in surprise and then wails-


Katie: Oh no! The south is getting to me!

Dear Football Gods...

Jordan came downstairs to ask me if something was wrong with his hand, and if so, could it wait until tomorrow to get fixed?

I told him no, something was wrong with his head. Then quickly snapped a picture, like any loving wife would do.

I'd like to tell you these were injuries sustained from saving a child from an out of control car, but they weren't. They are the results of a mandatory weekly football game between MCCC classes in which they wear a shirt that says 'Moonwalkers' for a jersey and have a picture of Michael Jackson on the back. 

Does that tell you how seriously these games should be taken?

We had a little talk about the importance of not sacrificing our bodies to the gods of football, as they don't respond very kindly.

The 6-8 weeks in a splint will help take care of that.

Let Sleeping Shrew's Lie

We've been garnering, over the past 6 weeks, snapshots of The Shrew in what should be his normal moments. 

You know, when he's sleeping and can conform to normal moments of dog.

They really never happen.

This is my personal favorite below and I don't think it needs explaining.

He's in the car on my lap in this one below.

My second favorite.

That right paw you can see flung out? I call it his gay paw. He swats at things with it.

You can't see him, but he's in there.

Lotsa lotsa nuttin...

There's so much, and so little, happening in our lives that I've lost all motivation to post on it.

Oh wait, I'm never motivated to post....

Just kidding. Here's our strings of little nothings.

-Ryker has officially learned how to fetch. Only if I have a treat and/or smell like bacon will be actually drop it at my feet, however. We're working on it. Although I'm partly suspicious that his prancing after the ball has something to do with the fact it's peanut butter flavored.

-Jordan is back to work in full drive so the Army can learn him reel good how to be Cap'n Cross.

-I realized on retrospect today that I still stare at Jordan with an open-mouth-drooly-face expression. The kind teenage girls get at a theater that prompts them to giggle and whisper behind their hands when their favorite actor comes on screen. I can't breathe, he's so cute! Channing TATUM!!! Actually, I don't really like that guy but I like Jordan. He's going to roll his eyes and say, "Oh my gosh," when he reads this, but don't be fooled. He likes it when I get mushy. Not to get technical here, but it's his own fault for being so damned attractive.

-We have, to date, slain 6 cockroaches.

-We have 1 known lizard/gecko co-habitating with us. I welcome him and all other magical lizards that disappear like lightning when I try to befriend them. Please, live in my floorboards. Feast on my roaches.

-We started puppy class. You know, where everyone gets together and learns how to train their dog? And there's always that ONE dog that barks, jumps, licks and honks in order to greet, maul and tongue every person in the class. They are so annoying because the owners never seem to get them under control.

That's us.

-I bought a pint size ice cream maker by Hamilton Beach in Creamy Barbie Pink. Joy of my life. I had ice cream for breakfast this morning. True story. It was a foodgasm, and I enjoyed all by myself at 6 am. Who says you need a man?

-I'm going to run away with a man named Ned. I met him at Sam's Club. He stopped handing out pineapple samples to tell me that girls with pretty brown hair, pretty brown eyes and a great smile make his job worthwhile, and that my smile made him happy. I'm sure his great-great-grandchildren will love my dog.

I feel like these are getting boring, so I end.

YOU are a dogface...

Conversation. Of. The. Day

Sitting on the lovesac cuddling while the Furry Shrew is taking a nap. Jordan leans in to give Katie a big fat kiss on the lips and stops seconds before, centimeters away from said luscious lips to observe-

"Smells like dog."

Katie, stunned, blinks. Immediately his eyes widen in panic and backpedaling commences.

"The Lovesac! The Lovesac! Not you! You don't smell like a dog!"

Katie gains revenge by blogpost. She emerges victorious again.

Industrial Strength Parents

The Lovesac is where it's at, folks.

In many, many, many ways.

Ryker goes through stages in order to fall asleep, we realized this within a few days of him arriving. Fortunately we are real hard-noses and never give in to cuddling or affection, as you will see.

First he has to get comfortable. Trust me, he tests just about every position until he settles into the one where his cold, wet nose is pressed against your neck.

Then he cuts off your windpipe in order to ensure you won't change positions and wake him up
And finally sneaks around back in order to hide from the light, should it be on.
Then he gives up and starts all over again. True story. Actually, this is Jordan trying to wake Ryker up for potty time. He was having none of it. Stubborn little mongrel he is, but we always win.
Lastly, but most importantly, not cuddling with his gristly, made-of-tougher-stuff-than-this mother that is secretly obsessed with him.

But seriously, as soon as I saw this picture I said, 'Whose dog is this?' Doesn't he look ginormous in his cute little lurpy stage? He's all legs and paws. We've had him three weeks and he's nearly doubled his weight. For the record, I was never told that they grow up.

Ok, at least not this fast.

It's not just the humidity, folks.

The South has many adventures it's offered me.

The cockroach on my arm yesterday was a fun one. At first I thought it was getting revenge on me for having killed it's friend only an hour prior. I was humane. I mauled it with a broom and kicked it outside, screaming in rage and showing no fear which probably looked more like shuddering in disgust and shrieking with grossedoutness.

At least I didn't let Ryker eat him.

But then I realized it wasn't a personal vendetta. My two hour pest control excursion where I stalked around the house wearing a bandana and exclaiming, 'You come into my house?' at the top of my lungs with all the windows open for ventilation as I sprayed every single wall, corner, crevice, stair, cupboard, floor and window clearly wasn't an adequate battle.

I've been prepping myself for the nasty creatures for a month now.

Anyway, one totally unanticipated beastie took us by surprise a few weeks ago. Whilst cleaning my teeth one night I asked Jordan about an unusual scratching sound coming from the window. It happened every night, but I had no idea what it was.

Turns out it was a little bugger called Builder Bees. Something like that, anyway. They eat at the wood in houses, probably trees too, maybe even small children, and then build their nests. We count ourselves lucky they haven't found my hair yet. They're huge.

Ginormous.

Sparrow size.

Turns out- they were eating our window. That's right... eating. Jordan tapped on it where he heard the knocking and wha-bam! The toothbrush went through.

Don't worry, our guard dog kept us safe. (Don't be taken off guard by the innocent little Tigger that he alternately loves to maul and/or cuddle. Simultaneously, even. One sign of stress from this dog and Tigger is a goner. If Ryker gets upset about anything in his crate- off with his head is the only way to put it.)

Anywho, we sprayed some bug control they weren't even a little responsive too, layered it with tape and I had the fun experience of explaining it to our rental people the next morning.

The guy who came to fix it not only looked annoyed and smelled like smoke, but he woke up my dog at nap time, so none of us left that encounter happy.

I was happy that my nightly scratching concertina was off until I heard it a day later from the window .... right next to my bed.