Saturday, July 31, 2010

Things they should teach you in Drivers Ed but don't...Oh wait, YES THEY DO it's just 99.9% of the class isn't listening, can't understand the concept or forgets two days after their 16th birthday.

Hello, my name is Anne and I have road rage.

No, not the kind where I follow people home and murder their gold fish.  Not even the kind where I flip people off, I'm not that rude.  I have the kind of road rage that causes me to YELL, a lot.   Below are the top reasons I yell and why I am justified in doing so.  What, you didn't think I would go through the trouble of  writing all of this just to be wrong did you?

Merging.  This is a big one, HUGE.  Not knowing how to merge not only causes a lot of traffic, but it also contributes to the busted ear drums of my passengers.

Merging is really very simple if you break it down.  Imagine the road like a zipper and the cars as the prongs.  They all fit together harmoniously because they TAKE TURNS.  One, One.  One, One. All the way up until the zipper is beautifully closed.  

Enter the asshole that doesn't take turns and probably never has.  He is what happens when you accidentally zip your shirt up in your jacket and end up late because you have to spend twenty minutes bargaining with the zipper to please give you back your shirt!

Also, if there are two lanes merging to one, please DO NOT speed up to the front of the line and shove your car in front of someone who has been patiently waiting.  You are a horrible person lane merging cutter.  Like the kid that always cut in line in school, the jerk that took two donuts at the meeting leaving you with none.  The one that is SO IMPORTANT  that they fuck up the zipper for everyone else!  I DON'T LIKE YOU!

One more note on merging before we move on.  You should be at near freeway speed when you enter the freeway.  Please refrain from merging onto a four lane 65mph freeway at 35mph, it makes my eyes bulge in my head.  Also if you are in the slow lane and you see someone merging and you have room to safely move out of their way, MOVE! 

Speed.  Please go the speed limit or slightly faster if you are in the fast lane.  Additionally DO NOT speed up right when I pass you and then pace me in my blind spot or pass me and then go slower once in front of me.  Please, I'm BEGGING YOU, stop doing this.  

I have no problem if you want to drive slower than the speed limit for whatever reason you may have.  Old, scared, new baby in the car, I could give a shit, but stay out of the fast lane and if we are driving on a two lane road with next to no passing zones, could you keep it to like 5 miles under rather than 25.  Thanks, I really appreciate it. 

I also have no problem if you want to speed, I speed too and I'd love you to pass me at an alarming speed and get a ticket rather than me but there are a few requests for you as well, speeders.  Please, if I am in the fast lane and all the other lanes are full and going slow, know that I am only waiting for there to be an opening and then I will gladly move over.  Riding my ass and sighing so loud that I can almost hear you will not make me move.  I will move when I am damn good and ready to avoid having to weave in and out of cars.  Thanks.

Also, speeders, what's with the speeding up really fast on streets laden with stoplights.  What is the point of speeding up really quickly just to have to slow down again and again?  I just don't get it but you look really cool doing it and it totally doesn't waste gas so keep on keeping on.

Hum, what else?  I could go on for hours if I tried but I think that is sufficient in covering the biggest offenders.  So, in review, take turns and be courteous.  You really aren't going to get anywhere faster if you cut or don't let someone else in or tale-gate when there is traffic of weave in and out of cars in traffic or...  This isn't the playground in second grade, grow up.  If nothing else think of my passengers poor ears.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Anyone know how to enter in the state fair?

If you are a regular reader (yes, all three of you) then you know that we have a garden.  It never ceases to amaze me how quickly vegetable gardens grow.  It seems like I check on the zucchini in the morning and they are barely big enough to pick and by nightfall they are HUGE.  How does this happen?

First of all plants kind of freak me out anyway.  I mean how does a seed know to grow into a plant that flowers and produces FOOD.  FOOD THAT WE CAN EAT! 

It really is insane if you think about it.  Or maybe I'm just thinking a bit to much. 

Anyway, Ryan was out back yesterday and all of a sudden I hear, "HOLY SHIT!"  I of course think he is either talking to Abner, getting ready to yell at Abner or has just stepped in Abner's shit because pretty much any time one of us says holy shit Abner is the unholy shit we are refering to. 

But I digress

I walk outside and Ryan is absolutely GLOWING, grinning from ear to ear, and holding a huge mutant zucchini.  This thing was unreal!  We marveled at it for a bit, giggled like we were the sole creators of the very thought of zucchini and then looked at each other and were like, now what do we do with it?

We did what anyone would do.  Took some killer pictures and then let the dog eat it.

Friday, July 23, 2010

The grass is always greener

I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but we have the shaggiest shag rug that ever was shaggy.  It kind of reminds me of fuzzy lawn and I'm pretty sure Lilly thinks it was invnted JUST for her.

"A lawn that isn't wet and is extra soft AND inside, sign me up."  She likes to roll around, sunbathe and sleep on the indoor lawn.

I caught her completely sprawled out just the other day. 

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Prince and the pea

We finally got our new bed and let me tell you, it is amazing.  I forgot what it felt like not to roll into a hole on my side of the bed or have to get out the rock climbing gear to roll over from said hole and kiss Ryan goodnight. 

Other than the insane comfort level of our bed, one other unexpected surprise was the size of it.  It is HUGE.  I mean I knew we ordered a California King size bed but I never imagined the mattress would be this big.  I could literally crawl in and sleep inside of it and I doubt Ryan would even notice me in there. 

So, while we are sleeping soundly and comfortably, new problems are brewing.  The bed is so high that instead of simply hopping up in the morning when she is allowed, Lilly walks around the bed for twenty minutes ticking her toenails on the hardwood floors until one of us screams, "WE ARE GOING TO PULL YOUR TOENAILS OUT BY THE FUCKING ROOT IF YOU DON'T STOP WALKING AROUND AND GET INTO BED." 

She then freezes, shakes for a minute, jumps in bed and the second she finally get's comfortable our alarm goes off.


The other problem, that we thought would actually be a blessing, is Abner jumping up on the bed.  We foolishly assumed that he would not be able to get up on our new bed by himself alleviating us of the worry that he was jumping off of the bed; not good for his knees or back.  Well, if I have learned anything from Abner it is NEVER assume anything about him. 

He was up on that bed so fast I thought I was seeing things.  I mean I didn't even get the mattress pad secured and he was up, barking at me like, "Woman, who do you think I am, I can get up on ANYTHING!"

Now the delama of get a ramp/stairs or forbid the dogs on the new bed is in full force.  Wish us luck, we're going to need it. 

The flying Frenchie in "his" bed

Sunday, July 18, 2010

And a baby in the background goin' crazy!

While going through old pictures at my mom's house I came across this gem.  While it isn't all that old, only about two years, it is HILLARIOUS.  I have looked at this picture probably five times before and never noticed that both Ryan and I look like we are doing the Robot.

One of us is about to puke and yelling at the other to stop spinning.  I'm not giving any names, but it wasn't me.


I want to go to Disneyland!

My youth

Last week Ryan and I went to a Swingin' Utters show in Santa Cruz and over the course of the evening it became more and more tediously evident that I AM OLD!

Now, I was not the oldest one in years, not by a long shot.  But in terms of my soul, I was one hundred and seven; approximately.  

My first cue was my watch.  When we arrived it was already 9pm and the band wasn't set to play until 11:30.  A quick math session later and I was like, "dude, we aren't going to get home until like 2am!  I haven't been up until 2am in years!  And did I really just say ALREADY 9pm?  Someone bring me Centruim Silver with a scotch back"

Moving on.

I know some of you reading this have never been to a show so I am going to clarify a few things before I continue.  Shows are HOT.  They are CROWDED.  People TOUCH and BUMP into you.  People SPILL THEIR DRINKS ON YOU.  People PUSH you, hard.  It is LOUD.  It SMELLS. And there is ALWAYS an asshole in the bunch that makes all above stated worse. 

Now that we have cleared that up, on to my next cue.

The crowd.  I used to be part of it.  Up front singing, smashed against the stage, peoples sweat and beer dripping down my back, bruising my ribs, dancing, and all the while loving it.

This time, and to be honest probably the past 10 times, I stood in the back by the wall; safely away from the pushing, the beer spilling, the bruises and the sweat. 

Booze.  I used to drink a lot of it at shows which probably explains why I was up front being smashed with not a care in the world.  Now," I'll have a water with no ice please.  It's hot in there and I'd hate to get dehydrated." 

Footwear.  I used to wear chucks or flats because when you are actually in the crowd people step on your feet and spill on your feet and I would hate to ruin my heels.  Now I wear the heels and I must say, they come in handy if you are standing in the back and still want to see your husband up front dancing and NOT being old.

I also imagined myself using them as a weapon to hit the asshole that makes everything worse over the head if he pushed me even ONE. MORE. TIME. 

Although I am ranting about shows, there is something about going to a show that makes me forget about the sweat, the beer spills, and shoving and makes me feel so good inside, so alive.  And so I will continue to go and stand in the back and roll my eyes at the asshole and smile at Ryan dancing and get a ring in my ear and smile as I fall into bed, preemptive asprin in hand.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Do you think we should get a bigger can?

When our first wedding gift arrived it felt like Christmas morning.  I opened the box which housed another box which was wrapped in lovely paper only to get to the gift which was lined with more paper and protective cardboard support.  

A moment later I sat with a beautiful 5x7 inch picture frame and a crumpled 5x7 FOOT pile of cardboard and paper.  I then did what any lady would; I put all the cardboard outside for Ryan to collapse and put in our recycling can.

The first couple times he did this with enthusiasm and a smile on is face, but after about a month of breaking down cardboard and systematically filling our small recycling can with equal amounts of wedding cardboard and daily recycling, he started to get a little touchy.  

I'd see him out there, straight edge razor in hand, curing the very maker of cardboard.  Going on little tangents about how much rediculious packaging was needed for towels and how was he ever going to make this fit and what this ever going to end and WHY IS THAT OBNOXIOUS PIG DOG ALWAYS TRYING TO HELP!  And oh god, don't even get my started on the packing peanuts,

Throw an unexpected Kombucha bottle into the mix and he'd completely loose his shit.  

Fortunately for Ryan's sanity, the gifts stopped coming and his straight edge razor got a much deserved rest.  That is until last week when I bought patio furniture and all of his cardboard colored nightmares came flooding back in a brown sea or horror. 

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I came around the corner a few evenings ago to see this going on in our living room.  

THIS is how we handle cardboard now...


Saturday, July 10, 2010

I know, I know

I have been a bad blogger as of late.  I am working on a few posts and should have one up tomorrow.  In the mean time, enjoy a few photographs taken by my sweet Suzie Q on her visit last month. 

Monday, July 5, 2010

Put on a happy face

Lilly loves to smile and really, who can blame her.  She is fed, walked, cleaned up after, and sleeps 18+ hours a day. 

Evey once in a while, when I find myself a little annoyed with all the dog hair on the furniture, nose marks on the windows, and the constant flow of bodily fluids on my carpet I look at Lilly smiling and think, "it is so worth it." 

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Owen James

This week our friends from Santa Rosa came to visit for a few days and brought with them their adorable daughter, a lot of good laughs and...A PUPPY.  Not just any puppy, a Boston Terrier puppy that was so cute I almost tried to keep him.

His name is Owen James and he immediately evoked a, "he's so tiny.   Abner, he's so tiny, why aren't you tiny anymore. Abner, BE TINY."  I imagine it is an experience similar to when your baby is about 6 months old and a friend has a baby and you go visit that baby  and go holy shit, that baby is tiny.  Was my baby ever that tiny?

YES, he was!  And he never will be again and I want to cry about it.  I want to hold him with one arm and squish his puppy wrinkles and smell his puppy breath and...

WHAT?  Owen is pooping?  On the carpet?

I'm SO glad my dog is all grown up.

Internet, especially Suzanne, I give you Owen James