Sweet and Spicy

Scene: Our house, dinner time, post eating, pre clean up.

me: I'm still a little hungry, but I want a different taste.
dr soc: Yeah me too. I feel like I need something sweet after the spicy. (playfully while playing footsie with me under the table.) Get over here baby!
me (kinda whiny): Why don't I get to be spicy? ::pause:: Oh. It's because I said it like that isn't it.
--dr soc shakes head but in agreement--
me: Sigh. Just as I suspected.

Self Esteem

I've been keeping word document of jobs I have applied to and the date that I applied on for my own personal book keeping. Single spaced, size 11 font, remove space between paragraphs (which by the way, is a feature of microsoft office 10 that I hate and think is stupid, because it's visually stupid and and excessive. And, fyi: that extra space between paragraphs is not going to make your 3 page paper miraculously turn into the 5 page paper you need) list that is roughly half of a page full. I strike out the listing when I get the thanks but no thanks email. About 70% of the positions have a strike out through them, and the only reason I haven't struck out the rest of the positions is because I will cry.

I received another thank you for your interest/application but you have not been considered for the position email yesterday. And while I do appreciate the courtesy, it still stings. At least I got some sort of acknowledgement though. I discovered I wasn't considered for other jobs by either checking my application status, seeing the position re-posted, or seeing that the position has been filled and/or interviews were being held right now! (yes, that's so exciting for them. The rest of us not in the running are so happy.)

I knew this wouldn't be an easy process, and I knew it would take time. It would be a reality check to say the least. (It also doesn't help when your mom tells you "you always get jobs so easy!" and gives you a false sense of accomplishment.) But what I didn't expect was how quickly I would get demoralized and how much it would impact my self esteem and all other aspects of my life.

Such as: studying for the gre. I keep making excuses as to why I'm not studying, but the truth is I hate how studying makes me feel stupid. And when I don't score well on practice test, it just proves to me that I'm not smart enough to get into grad school.

My running. I'm pushing myself too hard at the gym and I know it. But I keep going to more and more fitness classes and pushing myself to the point of nausea because I feel like it's the only thing I have control over. I was at a 10 minute mile, and I'm roughly at a 9:15 mile now. But I need to be at a 9:00 minute mile to break 2 hours on my next half. So since I'm not there, I feel like I'm not doing anything

The dogs...as sweet as they are, try my patience every day. I get frustrated with Bailey more often, yet anything that anyone says remotely negative or concerning I automatically go on the defense. I'm on the defense a lot.

My face is breaking out horribly, which makes me really self conscious. I'm dealing with acne at twenty-fcking-eight, which is bull sht. So even if I was to get some sort of interview, I'm worried about how my skin will make me appear.

I'm so lonely. I don't know anyone here except dr soc, and it's hard for my people who have lives to have time to visit. And as for meeting people, well, see the vicious cycle known as not having a job to provide me human contacts, and lack of funds to do anything with the human contacts I don't have.

Loyalties

This was Mike's facebook status update yesterday: A year ago today Sarah and I went on our first date. My life has been better ever since :)

First: squeeeee! And yes I cried. (And then my response was to "like" his status, comment that I double super like it, and updated my status to: check out mike's status, it's super awesome and I love him more than ever!) (We express our deepest emotions and feeelings via facebook and never face to face. We prefer to share our intimacy with the world and not each other)

While he got more "likes" on facebook, we each got a few happy comments on our status updates. But one of the comments on his status was from, get this, his ex-girlfriend's mom.

I know, right? She's happy for him and she hopes things continue to be happy for him, so that's nice. I'm amused and I'm happy she's happy for him (and me in a little way). But I do find it a little odd and wonder, where exactly do her loyalties lie?

The Date That Changed My Life

A year ago, I tried on four(teen thousand) different outfits, carefully planned my makeup, checked my nerves and finally met the guy I had been emailing for 2 weeks.

Best first date ever.

Happy anniversary my love!

Math Is My Strong Subject

Seriously, math has always been something I'm good at. Yeah my skills get rusty if they don't get used on a constant basis, but all I typically need is a quick refresher course and I'm good. I whipped college algebra's ass and was able to test into calculus without taking pre-calc. Though pre-calc may have been helpful because that's where they teach you trigonometry so I struggled with that in my calculus class at UK. Math wise I was OK, just a little behind, but legally I was in trouble because the only thing that stopped me from stabbing my classmates was that I didn't want to ruin one of my better pens. (And it turns out I could take Stats 200 instead of calculus for my sociology degree, where I did not want to stab anyone in that class and I got a B in. So, win!)

Anyway, this is actually a dog post and not a math post.

Bailey is 1 dog. Jules is 1 dog. And 1 + 1 = 2. So I have 2 dogs. This works in theory, yes. But in reality, 1 Bailey + 1 Jules = 70 lbs of spaztastic chaos, and roughly 116 lbs (I've lost weight!) of pet mommy exhaustion and frustration.

It's honestly getting to the point where I'm starting to not like walking them. Bailey is a dog that needs a walk every single day. And we're not talking a once around the block kind of walk with her. She needs good half hour at least to have any kind of impact on her energy level. She won't burn off enough energy otherwise. And high strung dog is a destructive and nerve shooting dog. Jules is smaller so she can run around the house and be ok energy wise, but walks are good for her too. I can handle Bailey just fine. I can handle Jules just fine. So, for efficiency's sake, I walk them together. Bailey and I alone walk well together. But Jules and I do not. And me, Bailey, and Jules most certainly do not walk well together.

They have different type leashes first off. Bailey is walked in a no pull chest harness and a 6 foot nylon leash I've had since her puppy days. Jules walks in a chest harness and an extend-able leash. I typically lock Jules' leash to the same length as Bailey's so as to not have a pack leader. But there are still problems on our walks.

Such as Jules pulls. Which isn't a problem in theory because she's 20 lbs and I am lots heavier than her. But since I carry both but different leashes in the same hand to keep the other one free, because trust me, I need that free hand, the leashes get twisted a lot and the girls play bumper dogs. Bailey gets distracted easy (just like her mom) and veers off disrupting/cutting off Jules. When Jules pulls I snap on the leashes as a controlling method, but Bailey's gets snapped too when she hasn't exactly done anything wrong.

But the biggest problem is when we see another dog and/or kids. Jules starts digging in pulling because she wants to meet someone, but Bailey I shorten her leash and pull her closer to me because she doesn't have the gentlest hello. And Bailey has been known to lunge, like most dogs do, but usually in excitement in meeting someone new (or a cat) Sometimes, I'm able to keep Bailey close with only a few head turns from her while Jules pulls with all her might, but we keep going without incident. But in other case scenarios, when Bailey does get riled up, she often flails about without being conscious of her surroundings, ie, Jules. And if Bailey flails into Jules, Jules gets upset and starts sh*t with Bailey. So then I'm contending with two riled up dogs who are creating mayhem. I have to somehow separate them so they don't harm themselves, each other, me and whatever lured them over, and I need to pull them away as fast as I can from whatever got them riled up in the first place. Add to that a poop bag or two (tightly knotted) swinging around like a bio hazard, and you have our afternoon walk.

I don't mind that I have to walk the dogs, it's just one of the responsibilities of being a dog owner. But that 1.2 miles can be exhausting when it's just us girls. The walks are a lot easier when I have help, but dr soc doesn't have the time most afternoons/evenings to take a walk around the neighborhood. Plus, he's never walked Bailey by himself, let alone both of them. I don't want to have to resort to walking them separately because I don't think my body can handle that in addition to my running schedule. (I've been pushing myself hard, and my body is starting to let me know it does need that rest day.) But I'm tired of this. And I'm sick of every dog training website telling me Bailey's behavior is my fault. But I'm mostly baffled at how 1 dog + 1 dog does not = 2 dogs.

Out of Your League

Ok, so even though I know I'm cute and funny and smart and charming and nice and all that other stuff that makes me out of many guys' league (did I mention I'm snotty too?), I didn't really know what caliber of guy I would get on a dating site. Turns out, when you are serious about finding someone (aka: pay $), the dating site ups their ante and sends actual possible contenders. Since I had listed education being important to me, many of my prospects were or had been in grad and/or professional school.

And school is important to me, but it's also a very sensitive subject as well. Remember at the time I had just changed my major to sociology and I was a year away from my bachelor, so to me I had nothing. (I worked my ass off and I have a degree now, and I have every right to be proud of that. But by no means has all been forgiven and forgotten with uc.) So here I am "communicating" with these guys who could see my lack of a degree a deal breaker. (Yes, I realize that someone who would immediately discount me based on my education status is a douche and I didn't want to be with them anyway. But still, I worried.)

Dr soc had listed he had made it through grad school on his profile, but I figured he meant masters (which he has as well) because most of the guys who were in a PhD program said they were in a PhD program. Clearly I was wrong. Because this is how I found out he had his PhD and this is how I reacted:

me: (via eharmony pre-written in depth questions): what are you most proud of in life?
dr soc: (via eharmony response) I received my PhD in sociology in August.
me: uuuuh, f*ck. He better not quiz me if he asks me out...

--2 weeks later on our first date (because he did ask me out and I of course said yes) as we discussed our families--

dr soc: my brother has his PhD in psychology. So between us we have the social sciences covered.
me (smiling and laughing because we are on a date and that is what you do when you really like someone and want them to kiss you at the end of the evening): Nice!
me (in head): F*CK!

Bookworm

I like to read. (see: why I want to be a librarian) Dr soc doesn't. And seems that neither do his dad or brother.

me: So what, Soc men don't read?
dr soc: We can read!
me: I didn't say you can't read mr phd. I said you don't read.
dr soc: Nope, not really.
me: You are killing the librarian in me! You know that don't you?!
dr soc: My mom reads.
me: She married in. Doesn't count.
dr soc: I'm sure she'll love that by the way.
me: Whatever, I'm doing the same thing. So I don't count either.

The Best Kind of Cake

It's dr soc's birthday today! Happy birthday honey!
However, since this is my blog and I think my friend and I are hilarious, here's a conversation I had with a girlfriend a week ago about dr soc's birthday cake.

me: His birthday is this Saturday and I said I would make him a cake. And guess what kind he wants?
LB: Something really hard to make?
me (gleefully): Nope! He want funfetti!
LB (excited): That's the BEST kind of cake!
me: I know! I was so excited.
LB: Now, did he want funfetti all by himself or was there any prompting on your part?
me (proudly): all by himself!
LB: Really?
me: Yep. I told him I would make him any kind of cake he wanted, chocolate, strawberry, marble, whatever, I would try. And then he asked: 'what's the cake with the sprinkles in it?' And I got super excited and squealed 'funfetti!' And he said, yeah, I want that. So. Funfetti it is, icing and all.
LB: That is awesome. He likes the best kind of cake. Good for him.
me: I know, I was so proud when he said that. I thought, oh, he'll fit into the group just fine!

Training Buddy

I am a runner. And when I was training for my first half marathon in 2008, I would take my puppy Bailey with me. (And you would be correct in assuming that my puppy was (and still is) a compleate chick magnet) She would run right behind me, staying close in Clifton traffic, and then, without fail, have to poop at 3 miles. How she knew I don't know. Anyway, running was a good way to get some of her energy out, which she has a lot of. More when she was a puppy. But then knee-gate happened, so I lost my 4-legged running buddy.

She hasn't run with me since.

Well, I need to run outside to train for my spring half. I need to walk my dogs (another blog on that battle for another day), and Bailey needs the exercise for every one's sanity. So I decided to try to run with her again. But just like I'm training and can't expect to do, let alone run, 13.1 miles just like that, I have to train my dog's body to run too. We did one of our normal walk paths so I knew she could at least handle the distance. She managed to keep up with me though, like I knew she would, but I wanted to ease her back into the running thing. (I did forget that Bailey runs behind me and needs a few pep talks here and there, otherwise she pulls me back.)

I barely broke a sweat but this run was not about me and my pace work. It was about getting my dog to run again. (and exhausting her in the process, not going to lie). And my Bailey girl worked it! In fact, she worked so hard, that when we got home and she did her post run spaz (I've never figured that out. She'll be exhausted, yet will literally bounce off the furniture and run up a wall if it's in her path the second her leash is off), she lapped up all the water, ran around Jules, and then threw up. Just like a human who's worked too hard throws up. It was only a little bit and most of it wasn't on the carpet so it wasn't as disgusting as it could have been.

She is tired, otherwise she would be at the back window barking her head off at the guys replanting the trees in the backyard area. Instead, she's curled up on the couch whining in their general direction.

So....success?

Good Fcking Morning!

It's 2:30 pm. Do you know where your construction crew is?

Nope, but I can tell you where they aren't, and that would NOT be working on the house right next door to me. That construction zone is done for the day.

And it's probably done for today because construction work and the loudest spanish radio possible started at 6:45 AM. SIX FOURTY-F*CKING-FIVE AM. (I get shouty if I the number before the : is less than 7)

Yeah, that was how Mike, me, the dogs and probably the whole neighborhood were woken up this morning. Spanish radio blasting from the house next door along with hammering, clattering and drilling. I did manage to go back to sleep, but when I did get up of my own free will my morning routine was cranky due to the interruption. (I was dreaming about breaking out of prison I think. Now I'll never know if whoever I was was able to get out)

I know they typical workday starts at 8, and most people are probably already or about to get up to get ready. But some of us are kept women, and the man that keeps me doesn't have to be in his office until 10 (have I mentioned he loves his job?). And also, we live in the 'burbs, there are plenty of other families who have young kids, and don't have a typical workday schedule. In other words, we're still sleeping!

Any way you slice it, 6:45 is NOT the time to start construction and it is most definitely NOT the time to blast the radio either. Especially if you are going to blast the radio under my bedroom window, and even more so, make sure that my house's backyard isn't adjoined to the leasing agent's back yard. Yeah.

Valentine's Cliche

It's dr soc's and mine 1st valentines together! Awww. But I'm not going to gush on and on about how much I luuuuuv him and want to marry him and think he should listen to our gym and his office-mates about him giving me his last name*...... nope. Not this** valentines day. (February is a big month for us because his birthday is in 5 days and our anniversary is a week later. So we don't need to add the pressure of valentines day in there. I like to have the day/night acknowledged a little***, but I prefer to not add to the commercial pressure of doing anything over the top special.)

So instead, I will talk about the first valentine's day I had with my ex because it's amusing. Valentine's day in itself has become a huge cliche, with the grandeur expressions of love and adoration, the inundation of hearts and and heart shaped things, flowers imported from Brazil, red and pink (ok, that I do love) decorations, and the mountains of chocolate/heart shaped candy. (ok, that I can get behind as well). I'm not the biggest fan of cliche's. Really, I quite only like cliche's when I'm making fun of them. I understand why things are/become cliche and am not immune to using them myself. But still, I make fun of them.

Well anyway, the original story for this post is to amuse you with what my ex got me for our first valentines day. What we actually did on valentines day i don't remember, but what I do remember in vivid and mocking detail, was the gift he sent. First, I do give him props for sending me something to my office. But he sent something like this:

only with less (and lamer) flowers and chocolate (also lame)

It was (and frankly, in my opinion still is) the most cliche valentines gift ever. All that's missing is the heart shaped jewelry. Which at first I thought was awesome because of the cliche factor and he was running with the theme and participating in my mocking. But then later that night listening to him give himself his own ticker-tape parade of how awesome it was, I realized he thought it was the best valentines gift idea ever. So he was not mocking like I thought, seemed to have no concept humility, and I kept the mocking between me and my roommate. (and now you fine readers as well. You're welcome.)

But lucky for him, he set the bar low. So by the time he gave me a weird pink plant (that of course I killed somewhat on accident because I don't take care of plants) I didn't expect (or hope) to be impressed. And, lucky for me, I never was.

*yep. I just smile cheekily at his squirming because I am supportive like that.
** by next though, I hope to be in full bridezilla, I mean, BOT oriented, mode.
***by this I mean flowers. And by flowers I mean roses.

Oh, honey, I realize this may put a lot of unfair pressure on you. But we had the valentine discussion prior to this post, so you are aware of my opinions and mocking inclinations. And you are smart, a grown up and I love you, and will figure how to woo me just fine.

Happy Valentine's Day!

added 2-15-11: he sent me roses and they are beautiful! Love you honey!

B & B

A while ago I suggested to dr soc that we take a little weekend trip for our anniversary. He thought it was a good idea (because all of my ideas are good ideas-though he has yet to agree to this fully), so I started google searching romantic trips for the area I suggested.

Oh la la! So many lovely romantic packages. The services/amenities range from drinks upon check in, flowers in your room, sparking wines, chocolates, massages, gourmet meals, late check out (wink wink), all things that make you feel a little or lot pampered, depending on how much you want to shell out. I noticed though that most of these packages are at an inn, and upon further research (google clicks) I find these are b&bs, not hotels.

I've never stayed at or even looked into a b&b, though I don't know why. Do I have an aversion to them that I don't know about? I remember there must have been some reason I never looked into one, because they all look really cute and feed me breakfast, so why would I not stay there?

So I pose this question to dr soc, because I'm sort of sitting on the fence on this. And maybe he has an aversion to B&B's too and then it would be a moot point. But turns out he's stayed in one and said it was pretty cool. Which I was less than thrilled to learn because I know that means he went with a previous girlfriend. I know this because no strait guy, A: suggests a b&b in the first place, and B: goes alone and without a woman to do dirty things to. (I know everyone has a past as do I. I'm sure dr soc isn't tickled that I was engaged before. But I don't like the thought of my boyfriend being "romantic" with someone else, no mater what the statue of limitations are. And honestly, I don't have any romantic getaways or even stories for anyone to be jealous over anyway. (Is it just me or have I dated some clueless guys?)) I didn't want to know anymore about that rendezvous, but I can't just leave the (texting) conversation hanging. So I come up with some lame: "maybe I don't like b&b's because you have to share a bathroom" excuse and hope I can revisit the idea later (after I get over my jealousy that is). But then he offers up the info that the one he stayed at (w/the ex-girlfriend. Yeah, grr) had a private bathroom as well. (Really, SO glad to know that, grrrr.)

Now fully engaged in competitive mode, I make the choice right then that we are going and I will kick that old girlfriend memory's ass. So there and nanny-nanny-boo-boo. Yes, because that is what the original intention of our romantic anniversary trip was. But as for an explanation of to why I'm not all wishy-washy on the b&b idea anymore I give him this reason: for an in-room massage, I think I can get over my scruples. (Also, I love the word scruples)

Which is true. But I don't have a job so a trip, let alone a romantic one, or anything else that requires funds, isn't in the cards right now. So I completely scraped the idea of a trip and any other plans I may have had for a celebration. So all that research I did in competitive and jealousy mode became the moot point. (To add insult to injury, I found out later that the romantic trip I'm no longer planning was the same place he went with the old girlfriend for their romantic trip. I'm sure you can guess how I reacted to that). Which is too bad because I did find some places/spas that would have been nice. With private bathrooms, promises of waffles and enough Queen Anne decor just so there's no doubt it's an inn. There's always next year I guess. But I still don't know why I didn't like b&b's in the first place.

H2O

Scene: Dr soc and I are on our way into the gym together.

me (musing): I don't think I'm hydrated enough for my run but we'll see. At least this dehydration wasn't on purpose.
dr soc: Huh? What do you mean on purpose?
me (matter of factually): Oh, yeah. When I was at uc, during project week I usually didn't have time to pee.* So I would dehydrate and starve myself so I wouldn't have to take bathroom breaks.
dr soc (stunned): Oh my god! Seriously?
me: Yeah, I did it for years.
dr soc (shaking head): That's not healthy!
me: (snort) And you wonder why I have so many issues with that school.

* I also had even poorer time management skills back then too, hence the no bathroom breaks.

Beep Beep

Everything in my kitchen beeps. Which honestly wouldn't be that bad if whatever appliance that has it's feeling hurt because you aren't paying proper attention to it at the moment didn't continuously beeping in an bratty pay attention to me way. And lets face it, I can get distracted easily, which is the reason I use kitchen times in the first place. And I don't have the desire to babysit them all.

But it's not just the timer when done beeping, everything beeps as it's being set too. Seriously. The oven beeps when you hit a function button on it. Bake, warm, broil, oven light on/off, time, any button press = beep. It beeps as you set the oven temperature up or down. And if heaven forbid you set the temperature but don't press the "start" button, how is the oven going to know that you really meant that? OMG! Panic! I'm set to 425 but I don't know if they mean that! AHH!! Frantic beep! I don't know if you mean that! Press start! However, it's conjoined sibling the high maintenance induction cook top doesn't beep at all, even if you forget to turn off the burner with an empty pot on it and walk away. Safety first and all that. Maybe if figures that the oven makes enough noise for the both of them. Which it does. But still.

The microwave is similar to it's friend the oven in that it beeps if you press any button thing. But I always press start on the microwave so I don't know if it has the same OMG no press start style freak out like the oven. However, if you don't hit cancel or open the door of the microwave when it is done, it beeps to remind you. I prefer to think of it in a pestering little sibling* way, more of an excuse me, but um, I'm done. Excuse me! I'm done here! Hey!

*I'm referencing little siblings in general, not any one little sibling in particular.

But let's go back to the timers portion. Both the microwave and oven are the same way if you don't hit the cancel button (which beeps when pressed. Of course it does) after it's done timing. Which, ok, that one I understand some because you don't always hear the initial time's up noise. But quite often, I do whatever needs to be done when the timer goes off, so I don't reset/stop the timer right away. And the timers get angry at me so they beep beep beep at random intervals to annoy me. (also in a pestering little sibling way)

Not to be left out of the appliance action adventure club, my coffee maker beeps as well. I'm serious. When it's done brewing my morning life blood, it jumps into the fray with 5 rapid high pitched meeps, similar to what a bomb sounds like in the movies. Or, what an angry kitten sounds like. (At least, I'm assuming that's what an angry kitten would sound like)

While I love having my own kitchen, it can be a really noisy place. With all the beeping and upset appliances and the spaztastic dog sisters doing spaztastic things, you know. My solution for this was to buy an old fashioned egg timer. Yes, it adds a constant ticking to the symphony know as dinner cooking, but it makes one loud obnoxious ring when it's done and then shuts up. It's beautiful. And also? It's shaped like a pear, which amuse me highly.

What Goes Around Comes Around

I have a sister. And, like typical sisters, we fought all the time as kids. (And teenagers. And college students-but the college part was mostly due to me needing to grow up). Dr soc only has a brother, and I guess they got along really well as kids or if they had something to fight about they competed through sports. Whereas my sister and pulled from our arsenals of mean and pestered each other. So imagine his chagrin when he found out not only did we fight as kids, we weren't always nice to each other either. But he really doesn't understand the whole sister dynamic in the first place nor the fight with your sibling thing.

Anyway, we have the 2 girl dogs who for brevity's sake I often refer to as "the girls." Which is what my sister and I were often referred to as as well. But when I am referencing one dog to the other, I use their names, or "your friend". For example: "Bailey, let Jules play with that!" Or: "Jules stop swatting your friend!" But as of late, I've been referring to them as (step) sisters, because in a way they are. We're (pet) mommy and daddy, so our pet children are siblings. (Dr soc didn't really call himself dad until I moved in, a habit I'm proud to take credit for.)

I've mentioned that the dogs like each other and looooove to play, yes? I've also mentioned that Bailey is 30 lbs heavier than Jules too. So when they get into play mode, they play rough and we have to separate them because of their size difference. So they don't "fight"like my sister and I did, but they want to play and pester each other all. the. time and it gets very tiring to yell at/scold them to stop all. the. time.

But occasionally, neither one of them aren't in spaz mode and just want to nap. But they never reach that point at the same time. Yesterday the girls were constantly swatting at each other and frolicking around and frankly just getting on my last nerve. We've just come back from a walk in the hopes to tire them out, and I need to start cooking dinner, so they need to leave the other alone. Eventually Bailey flings herself on the couch and flops into a ball, done with the play for the moment. And Jules, clearly not done, trots over to me at the stove and looks up at me with a "why she no want to play?" expression on her face. So I say to her:

me to Jules: are you going to be nice to your sister?
--beat--
me to me: this is exactly what my mom went through isn't it?

And indeed it is. When I asked her about it she said yep, even the prepping dinner part. What goes around comes around!

Dough Boy

Over the course of our relationship, I have gained weight due to being content, eating whatever and also not working out. Dr soc has lost weight due to a shoulder injury and him not working out and loosing muscle mass. He claims it has nothing to do with him not being content like my weight gain signifies, but at times I am a crazy women and take this weight loss as a personal front. In other words, he needs to fatten up so I believe he is happy and thus making me happy.

But in the past month we joined a gym and have each been going 6 days a week. And since moving to Charlotte, I have a kitchen that I cook in almost every night which is super fun for me. But I also cook with dietary evils such as 2% milk, pan drippings and gasp(!) real butter. I'm not pouring lard down people's throats, but I'm not known for cooking with reduced fat options either. I figure, it's all about the moderation.

With all the gym going though, I'm not loosing weight, but that's not a goal for me. I'm running at a faster pace and I'm running more efficiently, which is what I want. Dr soc however, is trying to gain weight, much to the hatred of anyone who has ever tried to lose weight. Granted, he wants to gain 20 lbs of muscle, which is different, but still, it's weight gain and fattening up which is what I wanted. And he's getting there too. Though we're not 100% sure if it's via the muscle building, his mass protien intake or my cooking style.

dr soc (to his brother on the phone): Yeah, the gym is working out well. I started close to 168 and I'm around 174 now. --pause-- Maybe because I was at a standstill for a while and my body is just adapted quickly.
me: (snort) I think it's the butter.
dr soc: Sarah thinks it's the butter. Which she may be right on part of that.
me: Win for Sarah!

Dogs vs Kids

Disclaimer: I know that having a dog is not in any way shape or form "practice" for having a child. However, I have noticed a few similarities and differences in dog owning and babysitting since having 2 dogs.

Why dogs are NOT like children:

1. You can put dogs in a crate and leave them alone for a few hours. Babies not so much.
2. Dogs you encourage to go potty outside. Babies you encourage to crap in their pants.
3. Dogs are covered in hair. Babies are often bald.
4. If you constantly dress your dog you are weird. If you don't dress your kid you are bad mommy.
5. Dogs like tummy rubs. Well, I have no idea if this one is true, I've never tried to rub a baby's tummy.
6. Puppies you have to wait 2 months-ish before you can take them from their mom. Babies you have to wait 18 years.

Why dogs are like children:

1. You can leash them. In fact, I encourage leash children (dr soc and I disagree on this. I'm all for the leash, and him not so much. I say, lets just see how how much of an escape artist Sharktopus is before we make the leash call.
2. They need constant supervision, at least my dogs do otherwise they start mayhemming about (another reason I am pro-leash).
3. You are completely responsible for the feeding, watering and shelter of them.
4. They make liars out of you.
5. If they are quite you wonder if they are up to something.
6. You love them.
7. You have to worry about them getting into things.
8. They both have special doctors: vets and pediatricians.
9. You say: "get that out of your mouth!" on a constant basis.

Typical Night

Typical night at my house: We love to nap next to our friend!

Jules releases silent (not always silent) nuclear stink bomb (but always stink bomb) from her butt.

2-5 seconds after detonation human closest to Jules exclaims: Ugh!/God!/Whoa! Jules!

Stink bomb continues to waft past other dog and towards other human.

--Bailey does not stir--

2-5 seconds after first human initial smell, other human is affronted by the stink bomb.

Second human exclaims: Gah! Jules! Much to same effect as the first human

First human: Warned you.

Second human: That delay will get you.

Both humans: laugh because we are 14 and think dog gas is funny

--Bailey snores harder, still not stirring--

Jules releases again...

White Noise

I live in a new house. And not new in the new to me sense, but new as in we're (dr soc) the first owners. The houses next door, across the street and all 5 lots down the street are also new construction and/or currently being built. Including the house right next door to us.

Needless to say, I live in a construction zone. And a construction zone has a cacophony of construction noises such as hammering, drilling, heavy machinery beeping and rapidly spoken Spanish. Which can be annoying at 7 AM (seriously, 7 AM) but eventually it becomes white noise in a way.

The dogs, not so much. Not only do they make the effort to bark at every hammering, drilling, heavy machinery beep rapidly spoken Spanish noise they hear in the am, they also gave themselves the task of barking and/or growling at any construction worker that dares to walk in front of our house.

Hey! Hey! We see you! we're in here and you're out there but we see you and we want you to know it!

But eventually, they settle down. (I stress the eventually. There's always a storm of spaz before the calm). The 3 of us girls will sit on the couch on our respective sides, while the dogs nap and the human job searches/blogs/emails/twitters ect. All is quiet on the western front.

And then, I hear a huge crash coming from upstairs. And not a construction site crash, this sound came from inside the house. Because all 3 of us are accounted for on the couch, and dr soc is off making a living, I snap into attention mode. And having learned nothing from horror movies, my non-virgin, large chested self ventures up the stairs to check what the noise was.

It was the full length mirror falling off the wall because the command strips apparently suck. And the mirror didn't break either, which I didn't think it had because I hadn't heard a shatter accompanying the crash. (and I'm exempt from the 7 years bad luck thing now, because I broke 2 mirrors within a few years of each other as a kid and within that time frame my appendix ruptured and I went through middle school. I've had more than my fair share of that superstition and karma can throw me a bone.)

The dogs? Didn't bat an eyelash. In fact, each one curled up into even tighter ball of napping dog. Hammering outside the house? Bark! Bark! Bark! Grrrr! A crash inside the house. Nada. Worst. Guard dogs. EVER.

Speculating

--Via gchat w/my sister--

Me: did I tell you that I secretly hoped my new neighbors were related to the president? I don't think they are now, but I had my reasons.
Amy: Why would you think that? Because they are black?
Me: Yes, but there were other reasons: They have a black curly haired Bo-ish looking dog. And the clincher, one of their vanity plates reads LUVOBAMA.*
Amy: You know a family's dog genes don't get passed through family right? ;)
Me: Yes. But it was still fun to speculate.
Amy: ok
Me: And NOW I don't think they are because dr soc met them and their dog is about 10 years old so I knew it wasn't Bo-related. And the secret service didn't investigate me or check to see if my house could be used as a safe house just in case the president visited either.
--pause--
Me: This is what I come up with because I have no job.

* while I am conscious of not using my last name and even many people's real names to give some semblance of privacy, if you have a vanity plate it is assumed that you do not wish to be anonymous and therefore are fair game for blog material.