Practice, Dammit.

This past weekend, KP and I had the pleasure of attending a beautiful wedding on Lake Travis. The bride and groom looked great, the ceremony included a Italian soloist, and the view was spectacular. We sat with a group of my former co-workers, had nice conversation, a few drinks, and good food. Then came the part KP and I have learned to dread, the toasts. The best man lightly dogged on the groom, but had very nice things to say to the new couple; his speech lasted about 3 minutes. That's what I call perfection. The maid-of-honor, on the other hand, did not share the best man's poise and grace. She stood on the side lines, while one of the bride's best friends got up to speak. After making fun of the the maid's social anxiety, the friend went on to make quite an uncomfortable speech. It included details of the bride and groom's meeting on the Internet, how the groom wasn't actually interested in the bride for quite a while, information about previous relationships, and phrases including black ice heart.

To be fair, the bride is a very funny, snarky (as she would say) person. While it was actually fitting, it was more appropriate for a bachelorette party than the wedding reception.

This toast went on for at least 10 minutes. KP nervously readjusted his tie, cuffs, and sleeves, the entire time. I sat with my napkin over my mouth. I will admit that we are people who change the channel on the television when someone does something embarrassing, so we are not the best gauge. Others seemed less uncomfortable, but not comfortable, per se.

Anyway, I cam straight home, called Kurtis to make sure I did not offend her when I gave her toast, thought about the only other toasts I have given, and then about this post.

Here are my tips for people who must give toasts at weddings:

• Practice in front of an audience and take constructive criticism
• Do not mention past relationships or break-ups/arguments
• Mention both the bride and the groom, even if you only know one well
• It's about them! Make the toast about them too.
• Keep it short
• Practice again

That's it.

Up Already, and Blogging.

I created this life. No, I don't believe I created my own being or destiny or that fate is impossible. I do believe that human will-power is a beautiful thing and can accomplish wonders. This is not what I am taking about this morning though. I created a house full of small dogs that run my life. KP has something to do with this as well. We are push-overs so they sleep in our bed, lay on our couch, and cuddle in our blankets. Essentially, they do whatever they want.

I am up this morning, and blogging about it, because our youngest canine, Mac, has a cough. It sounds like he's got a chip lodged in the back of his throat and he can't cough it up or down. KP thinks its phlegm and gave him a benedryll, the cure-all in our house, which happens to not be a decongestant and did nothing for the cough. After going to sleep at midnight, I woke up to coughing in my face at 1:15, 3:15, 4:44, and 5:53, at which time I got up with little Mac, gave him some crackers and tried to go back to bed. KP asked what I did to make quiet him and when my answer involved food, he said, "oh, I thought you strangled him." I thought about it, and then i remembered that he is helpless and I love him dearly.

From that point on, I tossed and turned, until finally deciding to get up at 7:30, hoping that the vet's office would miraculously open at 8 on a Saturday morning. No such luck; 9 it is.

Waiting, waiting, waiting...poor little Macaroon.

Again?

I know the picture below is shocking, so consider yourself warned. And yes, I have great self-esteem, otherwise this picture would be burned, not posted on the World Wide Web.

Today, I woke up the the below abnormality. This is not the first time my eye decided to become heavy and swell shut.

The first time I was at Amy #1's extremely clean house and I assumed that Freddy, the cat's, dander got in my eye. I rubbed it so feverishly that a gel formed on my eyeball, which my sis-in-law dubbed jellyfish poop. I also went to the emergency room that night because my mom-in-law said you don't mess with eyes. She's a nurse, you know. Anyway, they gave me benedryll, steroids, a $700 bill, and sent me on my way.

Since then, I have taken antihistamines before I go to homes with cats and just avoid touching them. I thought I was in the clear.

Last night, there were no cats in my vicinity. Plus, I took antihistamines, just for kicks. So what happened to me? Surely it's not the dogs that I sleep cuddled up to. No, that can't be it. Again, you are warned about the picture below. It ain't pretty.

I am headed to change my canine hair covered sheets and doze off to internal humming, thanks to the two benedryll I swallowed that are now doing their job.
--Giant Ojo

Dating makes me nervous.

Of course you know I am not talking about myself. I haven't been on a first date in nearly a decade, scary. I am talking about Little Sis dating. She's trying it all, including online dating, being set up, and going out with people she meets at bars and social events. We all know how easy it is to keep hanging out with the same people or even to give exes another chance because meeting new people is hard, even in a city of four million. I am proud of her for getting outside of her comfort zone with the hope of meeting someone new.

But, this dating is taking a toll on me. She calls from the bathroom with cryptic messages like, "he's wasted" or "he's not at all what I expected." What did you expect and how is he different? Is he a huge liar who's going to steal you?

Last week, Little Sis encouraged me to go on her online profile and read her correspondence. In one email, she wrote to a future date, "I hope you aren't a serial killer!" WHAT?! If you don't know enough about someone, you shouldn't meet them, right? Wrong. Even people married to serial killers don't know their spouses are hunting people for kicks.

Last night after a date with a different prospect she said, "He got really drunk, his friends were secretly sitting behind us the entire time, and he said things that I have to sleep on before making up my mind about him." All of this was in slurred speech which made me even more nervous. Is he gone? Was he following her? Ugh!

I know Little Sis is smart about where she goes, always taking her car, leaving at a decent hour, etc. That said, it still makes me nervous. I stay up waiting for her post-date calls.

So enough, I know this is the age of Internet love and I should calm down, but Little Sis, please don't stop calling me post-date. I have become your neurotic third Mother. I am sorry.

To catch up on Little Sis' dating adventures, click on the link to Aud Girl Out's blog on the right.

Stupid Human, I mean Dog, Tricks

Dogs, like humans, derive many of their character and physical traits from their parents. Zeus is not different from any other child. He has allergies, like his Mom and Dad. He has a little weight issue, like his Mom. He has a serious case of neuroses, just like his Mom.

Since he came into our lives, we have known that Zeus has an unhealthy obsession with the flashlight. About once a week, we get it out and let him chase the light, many times with Gus clinging to Zeus' tail, playing a game of his own. Zeus is so in love with the flashlight that he perks up every time he hears the word or words with similar sounds. When we want to try and use a flashlight without attracting his attention, we speak of it in terms such as the portable thing that illuminates or the bright stick in the basket. When we want to get Zeus all geared up for his light chasing, we ask him things like, "Zeus, want your crack pipe? Where's the bat flight?" We know it's not right, but it entertains us as well.

Tonight, KP is "fixing" a cabinet in our kitchen. I am not sure what's wrong with it, but I am sure it will work much better tomorrow. He has been using the flashlight to look into the dark expanse of serving dishes, Pyrex, and random appliances in order to see the "issue." Zeus has been by KP's side diligently waiting his for his time with the magical illuminating stick. When KP ran out into the garage for some screws, this is what I found:


And then, because he humored me with multiple pictures, I gave in to his addiction:

For the record, as I played this video back before publishing, Zeus jumped on to the couch to see if I had his beloved flashlight. He's still on guard.

The End of an Era

When I arrived home from Houston, I threw all of my bags and shoes on top of my dresser in order to escape the wrath of the little pissing dog, Mac. It seems he has marked everything in the house. We have now steam cleaned or washed each of these things, which hopefully only contain enough of the urine smell to satisfy the dog that each corner, table leg, or fiber of carpet clearly displays an olfactory neon sign stating MAC WAS HERE. I, with a great nose in more ways than one, search for new markings often. Luckily the number of marking has gone down significantly, but if you leave something new on the floor, it's fair game for a little leg lifting.

As I set my things on the dresser, I saw these:
If you cannot tell, these are the rings that have inhabited my husband's nipples for as long as I have known him. My guess is that he wasn't born with them, especially considering he comes from a Mid-western, Catholic family, but he may have acquired them sometime in his teens. This means he was pierced over a decade ago, my best guess, a decade and a half.

I too had a rebellious stage. My parents told my sisters and I that if we ever got a tattoo, they would not pay for college. This sunk in and to date, none of us have branded ourselves with ink. Instead I got pierced a few times; don't think dirty. Because of the bar in my tongue, I found myself not enunciating properly and other rings showed through tops, which by the age of 20, looked really tacky to me. I was metal-in-the-body free before my 21st birthday.

KP, on the other hand, had had no concerns about what other people thought of his rings. This is a statement about his character, really. He never cares what other people think about anything. KP does things for himself, me, friends, and family only. The rest of the world is just the fray in his mind. I love this about him. I did not love his nipple rings on display for all of our wedding guests the entire week of our Mexico wedding. I have also wondered many times what his grandparents think when they see him pierced in the summer time. My one consolation in that situation is that he gets his carefree attitude from them and his Mom, so they probably don't care at all.

KP took the above bars out for his surgery almost two weeks ago. I have not said anything to him about whether or not he plans to put them back in. Hopefully he will just forget about them all together. And no, he still doesn't know or care to know how to turn on the computer to read this. Safe.

I'll keep you posted, but I think this is the end of the pierced nipple era in our home.

Wondering what I have been doing?

I have been in Houston playing with the nephews, hanging out with the family, and having nice dinners with friends. I also threw in a little house hunting for a friend into the mix. Unfortunately, I only have evidence of playing. Fortunately, the boys are adorable. Hopefully I'll take some pics at the Davison Super Bowl Party this afternoon.Luke building blocks and knocking them down.

Mimi, my Mom, running with the boys.

Davis playing with the bucket of sidewalk chalk. He looked like a little hypercolor clothed baby after he crawled through our masterpieces.

L & D hamming it up for the camera.

Luke and me in front of our starfish drawing.

Me riding a Rody. This one's name is Johnny, according to Luke. Big Sis and I read the instructions on Christmas Eve. Luckily this thing holds up to 200 pounds. There are some side effects from bouncing on a Rody as an adult, but I will let you figure them out yourself.