A Dog's Life Archives : Fluid Pudding

No hug for you.

To celebrate the first day of school, I always make graham cracker sandwiches with chocolate icing for the girls.

To celebrate the final day of school, we tend to go out for frozen yogurt.

On Christmas morning, I get up at 5:00, make coffee, and watch the yule log on television until everyone else wakes up.

(Confession: I just watched that video for ten minutes or so, and my blood pressure went from 120/80 to 80/60.)

I’m one of those people who needs rituals and celebrations and plans (and a spinning wheel). I don’t like having things sprung on me. (Oh, have I got a story for you that I really can’t go into right now, but please know that something has happened that led me to slam my hand (in disgust!) onto a table and then drown my sorrows in church potluck brownies! Oceans of obscurity! (As Fluid Pudding, I share only 17% of my life.)) As much as I think I want someone to throw a surprise birthday party for me at some point, deep down I know that it will probably make me more angry than smiley.

Here’s the scoop. For the first time in 42 years, according to my Ease into 5K application, I was supposed to run for 20 minutes (in a row!) this morning. (Up to this point, my longest run has been nine minutes.) I decided to prepare for the 20 minutes by purchasing the soundtrack to Moonrise Kingdom and setting it to begin playing as I start running. I decided to dress up for this monumental run by wearing my black running skirt, my gray wicking t-shirt, my new sports bra, and my favorite running socks. (Get a load of me, will you?) Finally, I planned to celebrate my success (burning with optimism’s flames!) by walking however many laps it takes to finish out the soundtrack. My twenty minute run (plus ten minute warm up/cool down) plus laps for Moonrise Kingdom was going to take about 75 minutes. Add that to the time it takes to drive to and from the track, and we come up with a 90-minute plan. I normally leave the house at 5:30. This puts me back home at 7:00. Jeff leaves for work between 7:30 and 8:00. Excellent.

And then Henry started having butt problems, and the only open vet appointment required us to leave the house right at 7:30. I cannot shower, eat breakfast, and get ready in thirty minutes. (One of many tragic flaws. Even with no hair (we’ll talk about that later), my showers go for about 15 minutes, it takes seven minutes to choose clothes and pull them on, and then we arrive at my face, which is really suffering right now due to stress/not enough water/church potluck brownies/hormones/et cetera. I don’t wear much makeup, but it takes me some time to strategize and execute a semi-natural looking finish. And then I have to choose earrings.) Hhhhhhhh. I had to cancel this morning’s twenty minute run.

Tomorrow is another day, my friend. A day that will NOT find me spending $125 at the vet on steroids, new fish-based food and treats, and anal gland expression. (Teaching Moment: Facial expressions are signals of specific emotions that are recognized universally. I don’t know anything about my OWN anal glands, but I do know that smelling HENRY’S anal gland expression motivates MY face to showcase the universal signs for Fear and Disgust. Enjoy your lunch!) Do you remember when Henry was an itchy puppy? (I dare you to follow that link and not melt at the sight of Henry as a puppy. I can barely look at that photo without pushing my lips way out and saying, “Oh, sweet puppy.” Oh, sweet puppy.) Anyway, Henry is itchy again and the allergy is all up in his butt and I just stepped away from the computer to give him a hug. (I would also hug you if someone you don’t know very well stuck his fingers into your butt this morning. If you were a dog. Which you are not. So, really, no hug for you.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Hush Hush, Eye to Eye

Every two weeks I pick up my haul at the community produce co-op.

Every two weeks I post a photo of what was included in the basket.

Every two weeks you say, “Fruits and vegetables. Awesome. Next?”

I’ll tell you what’s next! I’ve started indulging in Vegan Tuesdays! Sadly, I wasn’t very prepared to deal with this past Tuesday’s vegan adventure. In fact, on Tuesday afternoon I ended up making a semi-desperate phone call to the Ritz cracker people to see if their Reduced Fat crackers are vegan.

Me: It’s not on the PETA list, but OTHER Ritz crackers ARE, so I’ve GOTTA KNOW! TALK TO ME ABOUT THE NATURAL FLAVORS!!!

Ritz Man: Well, the natural flavors COULD be derived from plants OR animals.

Me: . . .

Ritz Man: Nabisco won’t tell us what they are.

Me: You work for Nabisco, and they won’t tell you if the natural flavors are plants or animals?!

Ritz Man: I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Why don’t you give me your mailing address so we can send you special offers regarding some new and exciting Nabisco products?

Me: Here is your mission. Find out what the natural flavors are, and then I’ll give you my mailing address.

As I ponder the transition from vegetarianism to veganism, please know that I’m going to be relying heavily on VegaDeli. Also know that as I attempt to make our house reflect our style, I’ll be relying on VegaDeli once again.

They’re currently selling the work of a local artist named Sandy Griffin, and I absolutely love it. (I had a serious tie going on between Make Breakfast, Not War and Make Windmills, Not War. If you’re in St. Louis, go to VegaDeli, get a bone builder juice and a raw taco wrap, and enjoy the atmosphere. Also, give me a heads-up. I’ll probably want to meet you there.)

Hey, look! Henry and Scout love each other!

(You might think Henry’s hair is getting a little unruly. What you don’t know is that he’s auditioning for Kajagoogoo in a few weeks.)

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P-Funk All Stars Perform The Anxious Puppy Blues

I’m moving back to Nashville.

(I’m not really moving back to Nashville.)

As you know, we spent a few days in Nashville last week. The entire trip lasted less than 60 hours from start to finish, which wasn’t nearly enough for me. I often wonder how my life would be different had we stayed in Nashville after getting married in 2001. I can’t help but think we would be struggling a bit more. AND, because I’m a clever blend of “The world revolves around me” and “Every time a butterfly flaps its wings, it changes the course of something else” I wonder if Nashville would still be Nashville without us there. I love Nashville just the way it is, so perhaps leaving it was the best decision. If you love something set it free or time keeps on ticking into the future or step off the crack, Jack and make a new plan, Stan.

A day will soon come when my kids no longer want to sit in a gigantic rocking chair. During our trip to Nashville, they sat in it twice and posed for photos. Together. Last night Meredith pulled me aside and asked if she could help pick out her summer clothes this year. The basic short/t-shirt combinations that I tend to buy in bulk at Target are no longer her style. Also, late last week she told me that I shouldn’t be wearing black shoes with light jeans. “Maybe a different pair of black shoes would work, but those don’t look that good. No offense.” Her Smiling in a Big Rocking Chair days are numbered.

One of our favorite meals in Nashville was breakfast at The Pfunky Griddle. Each table had a griddle built in, and if you go for the all you can eat pancake breakfast, the griddle is turned on and the staff continues to deliver wheat and white batter to the table. (Everyone gets to choose one topping. Harper went with M&M’s. Meredith went for chocolate chips. Jeff? Blueberries. Me? Banana slices, plus a side of vegetarian sausage. I mixed it all together and made banana/sausage pancakes. Not bad.)

Did you notice that Meredith is wearing a hoodie in that photo? I’m telling you, the child is living on the edge these days.

While we were gone, we boarded the puppies at their vet office. When I called on Wednesday, I was told that Henry was a bit of a “Nervous Nellie” at first, but he was now doing well with eating and playing. When I called on Thursday, I was told that both dogs were “doing great” and playing/eating/having a great time. When we arrived to pick them up on Friday, the woman in charge of the boarding facility came out and told us that Henry had a horrible experience during his stay. They couldn’t get him in and out of his crate very well, they had to get the help of one of the veterinarians because he was starting to get aggressive, he never pooped, and on and on until I interrupted and said, “Every time I called to check on the dogs, I was told that they were doing really well. Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?”

Vet Tech: Well, I guess it depends on who you talked to. They may not have been familiar with the situation.

Me: They may not have been familiar, yet they gave me a glowing report. That bothers me.

Vet Tech: Well, the next time you board, you could consider having a sedative prescribed for Henry so he deals with the situation a bit better.

Me: Had I known he was going nuts, I could have asked for him to be given something during THIS visit. Again, it really bothers me that I wasn’t told what was going on.

Vet Tech: There are a lot of big dogs here right now.

Me: I sometimes dream about taking a nap in a bathtub filled with scrambled eggs. That doesn’t change the fact that something could have been done to help my dog.

When we got Henry home, he pooped for three hours (I’m exaggerating. Slightly.), and then slept for nearly twelve hours. I don’t believe we’ll board him again. (The thing that bugs me? I really like everyone at the vet office. And I know their job is hard. And I know that it’s a busy time of year. And I know, or at least I hope that everyone was doing their best. Still, I hate that Henry was terrified for sixty straight hours.)

In my mind, this truck is filled with the pink slime everyone seems to be talking about. Also, it could be filled with a scrambled egg type of substance that stays at ninety nine degrees indefinitely. For my bathtub. Because I’m sleepy.

(Heads Up: Yesterday I renewed Fluid Pudding for two more years, so you’ve got me until I’m almost 44, if not longer. Cheers to us.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Our Canine Petty Tyrant

Scout, our Yorkshire Terrier/Shih Tzu daughter, was adopted last May when she was approximately ten weeks old. Scout was adorable and tiny—a lot like Joey’s girlfriend in Season Five of Friends—which was exactly what we were looking for in a puppy. (No. I did not KNOW that Joey’s tiny girlfriend was from Season Five. I looked it up. I was a fan, but with a lowercase f.)

Evidence of Scout’s adorable sass:

A few months after we brought Scout into our house, it occurred to me that the girls were going to return to school soon, and how on earth would I get freelance work done with a cute sassy dog pulling on my shoes? (And my HEART! Because wook at the widdle pahpee!!!)

Anyway. In August, we fell in love with another puppy named Scout, and to avoid confusion we renamed him Henry and paid the fee that enabled us to call him our son/brother.

Henry is a Shih Tzu/Beagle/Brussels Griffon mix. It was estimated that he would top out at twenty pounds, and that was on the edge of Too Big, as we live in a teeny tiny house. (I sometimes have to walk outside just to change my mind! HA HA HA! I’m mostly kidding!) BUT, who could say no to that sweet little face? Not me!!!

Although the first few weeks were spent biting and growling and figuring out who was going to be the boss, it didn’t take long for Scout to realize that she loves her brother.

AND, here we are. Five months later. Scout is now weighing in at a whopping eighteen pounds, and Henry (who I assume is still growing?) weighs 38 pounds! 38 pounds! (Our chat style with Henry has gone from “Who’s a sweet little boy?” to “Henry! Who’s a big boy?! YOU are a BIG BOY!!!”)

Henry has been sleeping in the same crate since the day we got him. It’s entirely too small. Sure, he can duck down and go inside and (barely, just barely) turn around, but I’ve noticed that the nights are growing shorter because he gets uncomfortable all folded up. Also, he spends a LOT of time stretching out when he exits the crate in the morning.

This is becoming a long story, which really wasn’t my intention. Yesterday I was all, “Let me bring you down by singing a song about cancer.” Today? My dogs! Let me tell you about my dogs and what size they are! Oh! It gets better! My kids are participating in the American Heart Association’s Jump Rope For Heart Program. If you want to donate to their personal page, you can go here! They will love you for it! (They tend to not get excited about fundraisers. This one is different. They love this one.)

Back to my story, and let’s pick up the pace! Last week I found a big dog crate online! Free shipping! Thirty dollars off the manufacturer’s suggested retail price! I ordered it for Henry, and it arrived today!

As you can see, Henry was VERY excited about the new crate!

He went in. He came out. He went in again. He came out again. Scout sensed Henry’s excitement and decided to get in on it.

Henry politely asked Scout to cease and desist.

So she killed him.

Seriously. Look at her face!

Jeff’s boss once referred to a particular work situation as a goat rodeo.
I want to have “Goat Rodeo” stenciled on our family room wall. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Dog, Tea, Nail, Scarf, Dress. A kid’ll eat ivy, too.

Our water meter was replaced last week. I put in a request that the repairman call before arriving so I could put the dogs in their crates. I don’t believe Scout or Henry would ever bite anyone, but Scout has been known to pee on new people, and now that Henry weighs nearly 40 pounds, he’s sort of our resident Lennie Small. I’m sure the repairman was happy to see that the beasts had been caged, as Henry remained in this position during the entire appointment.

I’ve been drinking lots of tea. Also, lots of coffee. No water. This needs to change. I’ll work on that tomorrow.

This afternoon we went to Justice to spend a few Christmas gift cards. The (very wise) girls don’t really get into the Justice clothing styles anymore, so when presented with a gift card, they tend to hang out near the jewelry, the nail polish, and the stuffed animals. Included in today’s purchase is a bottle of black crackle nail polish—something I had never heard of until today. A few moments ago, they let me try out the crackle to see what would happen.

(I screamed and cried while applying it. It’s always good to scare the children.)

Finally, I’ve started a scarf/shawl.

It will eventually be one of these, but quite a bit smaller. (I lack yardage.) The yarn is Handmaiden Sea Silk in pewter, and if I had to choose one yarn with which to knit for the rest of my life, this would be it. (Knitters, I’m curious what your choice would be. One yarn for the rest of your life. What is it?)

One last thing: I broke down and bought this dress. It had to be done. It matches the scarf, and right now it matches my nails. I didn’t have much of a choice. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The Stimulatory Effects of Caffeine and Dog Pajamas

Well, hello there!

This morning we’ll be attending our fifth (and final) Christmas celebration. There will be turkey, but not for me. (There will be green bean casserole and mashed potatoes for me. Also, granola made by my sister, which happens to be the greatest granola anyone has ever eaten.)

The theme for this Christmas has definitely been Caffeination. I received a Keurig Home-Brewing System on Sunday, and have been drinking entirely too much coffee for the past two days. Yesterday I received an IngenuiTEA, so I spent the evening watching The Grass is Greener, knitting a hat, and drinking jasmine tea. As a result of the madness, I’m a bit jittery and the skin on my face has taken on the appearance of tectonic plates. (My Juan de Fuca plate is threatening to separate. I’ll keep you updated.)

Meanwhile, I have discovered how intoxicating it can be to put clothes on a dog.

Scout is now begging for Mork suspenders and one of those arrow headband things.

Wild and crazy, indeed. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Turkey and Cheese and Oh No.

Monday night was not a good night. Scout woke us up at around three o’clock in the morning by throwing up all over the inside of her crate. Jeff took her outside for some fresh air, and I grabbed the paper towels and started cleaning up the mess. I hope you’re not eating right now. What I found in the crate (other than what you would normally expect with dog vomit) was a few bright red and hard pieces of something. It took me about ten seconds to realize that Scout’s mess contained pieces of her Frisbee! (Sure enough, when I checked the Frisbee, I found it to be pretty chewed up. It has since been recycled. Back to the story.)

Just in case this Eating of The Frisbee would lead to additional complications with Scout, I took one of the larger pieces and placed it in a Ziploc bag. (My thought process? If this causes some sort of blockage, I want to be able to take the Frisbee sample in to show the veterinarian what we suspect the culprit to be.)

Fast forward to yesterday, knowing that Scout had no additional issues throughout the week. Input and Output? Both normal. Are you enjoying your lunch over there? I just had a huge salad with beets and bleu cheese! Okay. Yesterday. Jeff has clients in town, so he was scrambling around in the morning trying to get his stuff ready and to pack the kids’ lunches. (Yep. He packs the girls’ lunches. Gem, that one.) Luckily, everyone got to work and school on time.

At approximately 4:00 in the afternoon, Meredith came STORMING off of the bus. She stomped into the house and immediately began ranting.

Meredith: Do you KNOW how HUNGRY I am?! Do you KNOW that all I had for lunch today was applesauce, pretzels, and one of my Halloween Kit Kats?!

Me: What about your sandwich?

Heh. Heh heh.

Yes.

Because he was in a hurry, Jeff grabbed a sandwich bag off of the counter and tossed Meredith’s sandwich inside without noticing that he was using the Frisbee puke bag. Luckily, Meredith was smart enough to not eat the sandwich. And I know that it’s not funny, but when I realized what had happened, I started laughing. And then I bent over and started crying. And then I couldn’t even speak because I was laughing and crying harder than I have in a LONG time.

(Obviously, this pissed Meredith off even more. However, she quickly cheered up when I offered to make it up to her with pizza.)

Meanwhile, Scout has been begging for a bagged lunch. Turkey and Provolone with a side of regurgitated Frisbee?! I don’t believe it gets much better than that.

(Hey! Before you go, I would like to announce that Schmutzie chose me to bring you Five Star Friday! You really should go over and read this week’s selections. I’m so honored to be a part of it all!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Bad Wheels and Baby Heads

A week has passed, and my ankle is still messed up.

“Go to the DOCTOR!” you say, and to that I reply, “I did!” Last Friday my sister was in town and the two of us went to Fleet Feet where she bought some amazing socks, and I was fitted for running shoes. Although the shoe fitting wasn’t nearly as awkward as a bra fitting, I will admit that taking off my socks and shoes and having a young man stick his finger under my foot for arch assessment felt a bit strange.

Young Man at Fleet Feet: Now I’d like to watch you walk.

Me: Yeah, I bet you would, Sparky.

Anyway, what he REALLY wanted to do was watch me run so he could study my style, but my ankle was hurting so badly that running was impossible. Walking was nearly impossible. (The only thing that didn’t feel nearly impossible to me that day was eating a big veggie sandwich from Great Harvest. I killed that one.) When my sister went home, I headed to the doctor who ordered an x-ray. (Sadly, they couldn’t read the x-ray until Monday, so I spent the weekend not really knowing if my ankle was broken or sprained.)

Anyway, on Saturday, our school hosted the Fall Festival which is a pretty incredible event where the price of admission includes food, drinks, pony rides, a petting zoo, games, prizes, balloon sculptures, caricatures, etc. Not included in the ticket price? Everyone who attended Fall Festival was greeted by yours truly. Because I was taking the money.

Here is an actual photo of me taking the money.

I could write a book (not really) about the sad/maddening things I witnessed at the Fall Festival, but I’ll spare you. No. Wait. Two things. 1. If an event is scheduled to last from 3:30 until 7:00 and you show up at 5:00? Don’t ask me to cut the ticket price in half. It makes me feel awkward because I really want to help you, and it makes you look cheap because I see that you have a wallet full of cash. 2. If every piece of Fall Festival correspondence has gone home with a statement that says something like, “No drop-offs are allowed. All children MUST be accompanied by a paid adult.”, don’t drop your kids off. Yes. They’ll probably be okay. BUT, what if they fall off of a horse or choke on a hot dog or simply raise the type of ten-year-old hell that shouldn’t really be raised at a family event? You are not above the rules.

By the time I got home Saturday night, my ankle felt like it was the size of a baby head. I limped out to the garage and took another x-ray. (Our radiology equipment is outdated, but it still does the trick.) Sure enough.

On Sunday, I took it easy and worked on a boatload of freelance.

On Monday? The doctor called and told me that my ankle is not broken. Also, I am NOT growing a baby in my left foot. What I have is a sprain, and what I need is eight weeks of taking it easy.

And that’s unacceptable. BECAUSE, remember those running shoes I was fitted for? Wait. Let me reword that. Remember those running shoes for which I was fitted?! They were $140 at Fleet Feet, which made it pretty easy to walk away and say, “I need to see what’s up with my ankle before I commit to such a pricey pair of shoes.” However, yesterday I found them on sale at Running Warehouse, and after finding an additional coupon code, I managed to get them for 2/3 of their suggested retail price. All of this means that I need to get back to running because I now have running shoes. And a good sports bra. And cute running shorts with underpants sewn in. (The only two things left on my list are arch supports and some foot hugging socks.)

One more thing.

Henry is still itchy. BUT, with the veterinarian’s approval, I have taken him off of all medications except for the twice daily antihistamine. The poor guy has been on antibiotics for the past five weeks, along with steroids, flea preventatives, mite injections, and antifungals. Yesterday he received his final round of vaccinations. It just seems to be too much. (I know I’m not an expert.) SO, we’re now blank slating him for a week to see what happens with The Itch.

Oh! One more thing. I spun more yarn.

It’s Aramanth by Dyeabolical, and I love it.

Enjoy your Thursday. I believe now is the time (for all good men) to bake brownies. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Just filling you in over here…

Remember Henry? Yep. He’s still itchy. Yesterday morning I took him to a new vet where they did a few skin scrapes and found that his bacteria and yeast numbers are through the roof, even though he had a bath less than twelve hours before the appointment. He is now on another round of antibiotics, an antihistamine, and an antifungal. Luckily, this veterinarian firmly believes that he’s entirely too young for a food allergy, so I can once again give the pills in a tiny piece of hot dog. Do you have any idea how much my quality of life improves when I can give a dog a pill in a hot dog slice?

Speaking of The Improvement of My Life, let me tell you a story about an apple. Last year, a friend of mine told me how excited she was that SweeTango apples were back in season. I’ve never heard of anyone getting excited about an apple before, so I headed to the store and grabbed a few for myself. Immediately, my entire world was turned upside down. These are the most delicious apples I have ever tasted. EVER. They’re crisp. They’re sweet. They’re perfect. I must have eaten 25,000 SweeTango apples last fall, and the day I went to the store and found that they were no longer available, I was horrified. “What? What?! I have to wait until next FALL for ANOTHER?!”

I’ve been following the SweeTango page on Facebook. In other words, I’ve been keeping up with orchard news for the past few weeks. I even sent a quick note to them and found out that the apples would be delivered to St. Louis “during the week of September 12th.” On Monday, September 12th, I went to the store that carries the SweeTango apples. They weren’t there. I went back on Tuesday. Still not there. I went back on Wednesday and Thursday. No apples. Last night after Jeff left the house and the girls were in bed, a friend of mine posted a photo of a SweeTango that had just been taken off of the truck in St. Louis. I actually squealed. (And then I cried because I refuse to leave the house when I’m the only adult and the girls are in bed. I hate that I’m such a good mom like that…)

The girls boarded the bus this morning at approximately 8:17. At 8:18, I was in my car on the way to the store.

Oh, people. I spent $11.49 on seven apples, and I could not be happier.

I’ve already eaten four today. (Yes. I should probably slow down. Just remember: They’re APPLES. Not shots of booze. I’ll be okay.) ((Is it weird that I’m making a list of things I can sell to support my SweeTango habit?))

True Story: A few minutes ago, I called my doctor to see if she wanted to talk about a new medication I’m going to try. (Long story.) She doesn’t want to see me! She’s just going to give me some samples! Four apples a day kept my doctor away!

And another thing: Other than the SweeTango, this is my current favorite thing.

It’s a scarf made out of Berroco Link yarn. It’s knit on size 35 needles, which is like knitting with big bass drum mallets, and it comes together in less than an hour. The scarf I’m wearing in that photo was started at 1:00 this afternoon. I wove the ends in at 1:49. (I made this one last week.) Hint: If you’re going to buy the yarn, I recommend going to your local yarn store. If they can’t get it and you have to order it online, I highly recommend NobleKnits. The shipping is free, and the price is slightly better than most places. Merry Christmas to everyone. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Snorting and Stomping

Jeff came home early from work last Tuesday because he had a terrible cold. He’s not one to jump the gun on sick days, so it really surprised me when he stayed home on Wednesday, too. On Thursday, when I started feeling heaviness in my head, I was So Angry. Friday found me home alone with the animals, who were not happy to see me cocooned in my robe on the couch sneezing and coughing and drinking hot tea and yelling things like “Jeff! Why did you DO this to ME-HE-He-he?!”

Yes. This is all about me having a little cold. Intriguing! I really need to start planning some adventures. Know that I know that.

Side note: I hate taking cold medicine. I hate the hungover feeling that comes with it. I would rather not take anything and suffer through the symptoms than swallow a pill that makes me feel hazy. On Friday afternoon, I raided our medicine cabinet for cold medicine. I could NOT fight this without help. The cabinet was empty. (It’s actually pretty full—of nail polish and magnesium supplements and some weird gauze thing and pain pills that expired back in 1996.) I called Jeff and asked him to stop by Walgreens and get something for me.

Jeff: What do you need?

Me: EDDIEDING DAT WILL BAKE BE FEEL BEDDAH!!!

Thirty minutes later, he arrived with Pretzel M&M’s, a dark chocolate Milky Way, a Twix, and some sort of Three Musketeers wafer thing. (He knows me so well.)

Another side note: A friend of mine knew that I was feeling punky, and she delivered Delhi’s Chaat (#30 on the menu) to me earlier in the day. I am terribly lucky to have people who get my need for chocolate and Indian food.

I spent most of Saturday in my bed and on the couch. I found that it helped a bit to stand up and scream, “I’m MISERABLE!” for anyone who might be interested. (Not many were interested.) I have no idea where Sunday went. I honestly have no memory of Sunday. I turned a corner yesterday morning, and celebrated by juicing carrots, a beet, and some ginger. It was terrible. I then juiced an apple and mixed it in, which took it from a level of Terrible 8 to Terrible 3. Drinkable. (I’m really trying to not be afraid of my juicer.)

Today is Tuesday. I have an itchy dog, and it appears that my cold is 89% gone.

(Thanks for all of the itchy dog suggestions, by the way. He has now been on the prescription food and the flea pills for four days, and he’s scratching more than ever. Although his follow-up appointment isn’t until Thursday, I’m going to try to get him in this morning.)

((Also, Scout got her first all-over groom on Saturday morning. She’s now clean, fluffy, and proud.))

(((Oh! I met with the principal last week about Regina and The Sex Girls (I know. Awesome band name.), and without missing a beat, he came up with a perfect solution. All is well.))) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>