You Can Stop Licking My Nose.
It seems there is a new trend developing in this house, one that I'm not sure I agree with at all. Apparently, Puppy has learned, like Pavlov's dogs, certain behaviors bring about a positive result. For instance, he knows if I stir ever so slightly in the morning that if he jumps on my chest and starts licking my nose I will reluctantly get out of bed, and this pleases him to no end.
Oh I've tried everything from burying my head, to turning over, but no, once he starts he will persist until I get out of that bed come hell or high water. He won't give up. I don't know exactly what he wants, but my first instinct is to put them outside which I do, but I have usually already let them out a couple of hours earlier. For some reason I've been waking up at 5 a.m. regularly and been letting them out.
He's become a bit of a cat dog in some ways. You know how cats will always flop themselves down on the magazine you are reading, or on the computer keyboard when you are typing at it, well that's Puppy. I lay across my bed reading a book, and he picks that very time to come and snuggle up under my chin begging for petting and affection. It's too darn cute to ignore, so I have to pet him, then when I stop he keeps nudging for more and more, completely taking away from my book reading time. Well, he's spoiled I guess.
I guess it wouldn't be so bad if I could just teach him how to make coffee first. My life is a Folger's commercial, I simply cannot wake up without it anymore. Sometimes when hubby is home he brews the coffee then wakes me up to the sweet aroma of Folger's in my cup, and I love him more than ever, if that's even possible.
Puppy is actually a year old now, but he's still very much puppy, so we keep calling him that. He had his bath this week and is in extreme fluff mode. He has a bath once a month, he's usually dirty within the hour of returning home from the groomer, but he'll smell good for at least a week. She put some type of leave in conditioner on him last time, and he was like a freshly bathed little baby you just wanted to cuddle him.
My husband is quite taken with him. I even heard him refer to him as "My little Pumpkin" once, and of course I couldn't help but find that endearing. When I got Pumpkin I did so without consulting him, which I usually never do, but he was at the rig so I didn't have a way to get ahold of him, anyway, it's done now, but I did send him a text message and a picture saying, "I got a puppy, I hope you don't get mad", and of course he was very annoyed with me for that. He cussed and told the guys, "she got a puppy", and he showed them the picture, to which they all exclaimed, "awww." He told them we named him Pumpkin.
Now, every week when he returns to the rig, it's "How's Pumpkin?" and "Pumpkin this, and Pumpkin that" they are relentless about it. It's all fun though, and he takes it in stride.
Everyone should have a Pomeranian, they are so much fun. Even so, he likes to drag things out and make messes, which has been a pain, but when I come home from work and find him wearing a pair of underpants around his torso because he's practically climbed into them, I can't help but laugh at what a little clown he is. They weren't my underwears anyway.
So, I'm off to another day of back breaking physical labor, err I mean, I'm off to clean house and do laundry, tomorrow is trash day, and I'm truly of a mind to just start chucking stuff into the cans outside. I'm so tired of all this clutter.
And, there is a pie to be made today. I guess that will be a nice reward.
Monday, August 11, 2008
I Promise No Whining
And Minimal Complaining For Once.
I know, I know, it just won't be the same without my usual whine fest going on, but I get tired of hearing myself. There is more to me than bitching and complaining.
I bet you're wondering what has put me in such a good mood? Only spending about 5 hours straight with my mom doing crosswords on a cool rainy Sunday afternoon. It was just so nice to spend the day with her. She even conned me into cooking dinner for everyone, just like old times!
My dad laughed himself into a tizzy during dinner, because he found a piece of mail on the table from his "financial advisor" and my mom had wrote an arrow next to financial advisor, and wrote the name FELIX in there. It was her way of expressing her disapproval over his choice to discuss their finances with a complete stranger. You see, for years my dad used to jokingly call his cat, Felix, his financial advisor, which she kindly reminded him.
So, I look at dad during dinner, and his face is beat red, and he's obviously concealing laughter. I asked him what's so funny, and he holds up the letter, and says, "Felix", and then cracks up really bad. It was because earlier that day mom had been quite forceful in her opinion about him seeking financial advising from anyone other than her. According to her, "I've kept you out of the poor house all these years" she informed him.
Anyway, it was just good to see him laugh so much over it all.
I spent most of the day there, and completely blew off the stuff I needed to do at home, but it was totally worth it. She wants me to come over tomorrow and bake a peach pie, and truly, how could I refuse? Even though, I will have to get my hind end in motion right away in the morning to get all the stuff I need to do done so I can have time to go help with the pie.
I bought a brand new beautiful red vacuum, and I won't let anyone touch it. I refuse to have these heathens ruin my new vacuum again. My vacuums always work fine until other people use them, and for some reason, they just go to pot after that. Because I am having such control issues about the vacuum, I am stuck doing all the work.
Before you say anything, I HAVE tried to instruct these people, namely my daughter on how NOT to clog the thing up beyond all repair, and my vacuums still get murdered horribly. Even my brother in law resisted instruction and ruined two working vacuums while he was staying with us. That and completely drinking up every drop of liquor in the house was enough to ingratiate himself with me.
It's the chinchilla you see. All the live long day he throws his food, and his turds out of his cage. We have a severe problem with him doing this. Trust me, he may have a brain the size of a peanut, but I swear to you, he knows what he's doing. I've seen him throw his bowl across his cage when he wants a raisin. He stands at the bars and drives the dogs mad with his heckling. And sometimes, I think he secretly wants us all dead.
That's the way it is with caged animals. Somewhere in the archives are probably some posts about the bird. That guy had it in for me really bad. I could just sense his desire to pluck my eyes from my head. Honestly, I've never been big on having animals in cages, I don't like the feeling of it, it makes me feel bad for them, but he's here so we do the best we can by him.
Personally, I wouldn't recommend any caged animals as pets as I said above, it makes me feel guilty keeping them in cages. I do enjoy the little guy, but they are not cheap pets, and do require special situations, for instance, chinchilla's can't take high temperatures, so we have an air conditioner especially for him. Our house is 90 degrees some days, that type of heat will kill a chinchilla. They are fun, but with the dogs, we have to be careful of him getting out. Anyway, he's really funny, and has a cute personality, but his hair really clogs up my vacuums.
Well, there is a storm brewing outside, which means time to get off this computer. Thank God for some rain. Goodness knows it has been a hot dry summer.
I know, I know, it just won't be the same without my usual whine fest going on, but I get tired of hearing myself. There is more to me than bitching and complaining.
I bet you're wondering what has put me in such a good mood? Only spending about 5 hours straight with my mom doing crosswords on a cool rainy Sunday afternoon. It was just so nice to spend the day with her. She even conned me into cooking dinner for everyone, just like old times!
My dad laughed himself into a tizzy during dinner, because he found a piece of mail on the table from his "financial advisor" and my mom had wrote an arrow next to financial advisor, and wrote the name FELIX in there. It was her way of expressing her disapproval over his choice to discuss their finances with a complete stranger. You see, for years my dad used to jokingly call his cat, Felix, his financial advisor, which she kindly reminded him.
So, I look at dad during dinner, and his face is beat red, and he's obviously concealing laughter. I asked him what's so funny, and he holds up the letter, and says, "Felix", and then cracks up really bad. It was because earlier that day mom had been quite forceful in her opinion about him seeking financial advising from anyone other than her. According to her, "I've kept you out of the poor house all these years" she informed him.
Anyway, it was just good to see him laugh so much over it all.
I spent most of the day there, and completely blew off the stuff I needed to do at home, but it was totally worth it. She wants me to come over tomorrow and bake a peach pie, and truly, how could I refuse? Even though, I will have to get my hind end in motion right away in the morning to get all the stuff I need to do done so I can have time to go help with the pie.
I bought a brand new beautiful red vacuum, and I won't let anyone touch it. I refuse to have these heathens ruin my new vacuum again. My vacuums always work fine until other people use them, and for some reason, they just go to pot after that. Because I am having such control issues about the vacuum, I am stuck doing all the work.
Before you say anything, I HAVE tried to instruct these people, namely my daughter on how NOT to clog the thing up beyond all repair, and my vacuums still get murdered horribly. Even my brother in law resisted instruction and ruined two working vacuums while he was staying with us. That and completely drinking up every drop of liquor in the house was enough to ingratiate himself with me.
It's the chinchilla you see. All the live long day he throws his food, and his turds out of his cage. We have a severe problem with him doing this. Trust me, he may have a brain the size of a peanut, but I swear to you, he knows what he's doing. I've seen him throw his bowl across his cage when he wants a raisin. He stands at the bars and drives the dogs mad with his heckling. And sometimes, I think he secretly wants us all dead.
That's the way it is with caged animals. Somewhere in the archives are probably some posts about the bird. That guy had it in for me really bad. I could just sense his desire to pluck my eyes from my head. Honestly, I've never been big on having animals in cages, I don't like the feeling of it, it makes me feel bad for them, but he's here so we do the best we can by him.
Personally, I wouldn't recommend any caged animals as pets as I said above, it makes me feel guilty keeping them in cages. I do enjoy the little guy, but they are not cheap pets, and do require special situations, for instance, chinchilla's can't take high temperatures, so we have an air conditioner especially for him. Our house is 90 degrees some days, that type of heat will kill a chinchilla. They are fun, but with the dogs, we have to be careful of him getting out. Anyway, he's really funny, and has a cute personality, but his hair really clogs up my vacuums.
Well, there is a storm brewing outside, which means time to get off this computer. Thank God for some rain. Goodness knows it has been a hot dry summer.
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