Maybe I’m Biased…

3 07 2011

But is there anything sweeter than this face?





Enjoying It While We Can

2 07 2011

I’m one of those people whose internal clock is set to wake up at 6am.  It’s unfortunate; even when I’m exhausted or hung over or sick or lazy, by 6am my legs are twitching and my eyes won’t close and I’m UP.

Until now.

The combination of pregnancy, cold/allergies, and *finally* a break from an emotionally draining job has me sleeping until 8.  Or 8:30.  Or, on occasion, all day.

I’ve had to train Charlie to sleep late, too, by withholding his dinner until late evening and making sure he goes outside sometime after 8pm.  But I think he’s learning to love sleeping in, too.

Ironic, since 10 weeks from now?

Sleeping will be a thing of the past…

War Declared

17 07 2010

I came home from walking the dogs to find Chris stalking about the garage with his hands in the air, softly cooing “Come here, little beetle.  If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead, I just want to see you.  You’re my favorite kind of beetle.  Come here, little beetle.”

He did, eventually, catch the beetle.  After conducting a short photo session, he proceeded to carry the beetle around with him as he went about his business.

Later that evening, I was reaching between couch cushions in our garage when out flew a moth.

As I approached my bed a while later, a spider jumped – jumped – off the wall towards me.

There’s nothing like living with two amateur arthropodologists.  We are currently living in an ongoing construction project, so the garage door is always open to accommodate the pile of equipment and supplies that extends into the driveway.  The windows (screenless) remain open all night to cool the very warm house.  Doors to the house remain open due to the simple fact that nobody seems concerned with closing them.

So we have some moths.  We have spiders.  We have beetles.

I have witnessed, in the past, the hatching of many spider eggs.  Each one was a unique, amazing, and horrifying experience.  I have come to the conclusion that spiders’ breeding habits have evolved to take into account the fact that I am going to kill as many as I can see.  I don’t feel too bad killing every spider I see, because I figure there are a whole bunch in the proximity that I can’t see.

Jason and Chris want to save every one.

Including the black widow under the kitchen sink.

May you never live in a house with a black widow lurking under your kitchen sink.

I try, out of respect to the boys, to let these various little pets go about their business.  I’ve done a pretty good job, although that jumping spider had to go.

Then, last night, I was propped up in bed, holding my book, when I looked down and saw a scorpion.  On my rib cage.  In case you missed that: I found a scorpion nestled in the folds of my shirt on my ribcage.

I’m not typically a screamer, but I made an exception.

In came Jason, as I brushed the thing off and tried to squash it with my book.

“Don’t kill it!” hollered Jason.  “Don’t!  Don’t!  I’ll get something to catch him in, just watch him for me!”

He caught it.  He released it into the yard.

He returned and said, nonchalantly, “Shake out the pillows, they usually have friends.”

That’s it.

I have now adopted a ruthless anti-bug policy.  I’m no longer catering to the sensibilities of two grown men with the bug fascination of five year olds.  I dearly love them both, and am about to marry one, so I will do my best to conduct my war guerilla-style, with the hopes that they will not notice a significant reduction in the number of bugs they get to catch and identify.  But also in the hopes that there will be a significant reduction, in both bugs and scorpions.

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During the writing of this post, by the way, a crab-like spider crawled across the rug about six inches from my knee.  It was a casualty of war.

Bad Dog

19 06 2010

Jason’s parents offered their hospitality to Charlie and I when we went to meet up with Jason and his crew in the valley (

The Crew


Jason’s parents absolutely spoil Charlie, with sweet talk and chin scratches and bites of food from their plates.  Jason’s mom purchased Charlie, Carbon, and Porter each a dog bed last Christmas when they all came to stay.  They request, quite reasonably, only that Charlie stay off the furniture, though they’ve never shown any sort of anger when the rule is broken.

And, these past few days, Charlie broke the rule.

I tried, oh, I did try.

But we’re talking about a dog who has been visiting my own mother for ten years now, and still jumps up on her Pottery Barn couch every chance he gets.  He climbs up and makes himself comfortable, and looks not a whit ashamed of himself as my mom and I yell and wave our arms and tell him NO!  He goes into a death roll when I grab his collar to drag him off.

We’re talking about a dog who disappeared for a few hours last summer, and was finally found sleeping on Jason’s neighbor’s bed.  Granted, I was a hundred miles away when that happened, but I was right there the day Charlie ran into the same neighbor’s house and ate his dog’s food.  To this day, I only have a nodding acquaintance with the guy, but Charlie’s given himself the full tour of the man’s house.  And backyard, which was yet another day.

So there just wasn’t much of a chance.

I sat with Jason’s family watching a movie last night.  Although Charlie’s bed was in the living room with us, it wasn’t long before we heard the click of his nails going down the hall, a soft whump, and the jingle of dog tags.

“Charlie’s on the bed again,” Jason pointed out.

With a sigh, I went to drag from the guest room a dead weight that belied Charlie’s lean frame.

Good thing he’s cute.

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