Three Things Thursday!

1. The fabulous Portuguese cookies my neighbor brought over.  I may move to Portugal so I can eat them every day.

2. J getting up at 7am on his day off to start my car & turn it around in the driveway.

3. Taco bar day at the caf.

Pets: Part One

I feel like 90% of the questions in my life are covered by two topics:  When are you having kids, and Why don’t you get a pet?  The official short answer to these, in order, is: Mind your own business, and Because I don’t want one.

Since the first one is none of your business, I’ll elaborate on the second.  I hate cats.  Yes, I said it.  It took me a long time to say that out loud, and now it feels good.  J loves cats.  He had a cat his entire childhood and was devastated when she died.  While I admit that, as far as cats go, TJ was decent (unlike the diabolical Callie I bought my aunt & uncle for $5 from the shelter when they got married), she was still a cat.  And cats have the following issues:

1. Claws.  I know its mean to de-claw them, but do they have to use people and things as a scratching/kneading post?  Take it off my leg and to your scratching post, sister.

2. An attitude.  You’re a cat.  You’re not better than me, period.

3. The annoying habit of jumping on you when you’re trying to sleep.  I hate that, it’s a good way to give me a heart attack.  I don’t like anything touching me when I sleep (which is really a story for another day).

I do like dogs, as long as they don’t jump on you or bite (even if its “playful,” it’s still a bite, I don’t care if they’re puppy teeth).  Oh, and I don’t like dogs that weigh more than me and bark when I come near them, even if their owner insists “he’s just saying hi.”  Bull.  That dog could rip my face off, he could say hi a little more nicely.  Oh, and don’t get me started on un-leashed dogs when I’m running.

Seriously, though, I do like dogs.  We always had dogs growing up: Kipper, a lab with no tail that was given to my aunt by a boyfriend and loved by my grandfather more than anything; Zelda, beagle-y mutt that was loyal as anything; Cobi (named by yours truly after Kurt Cobain & Coby Jones), a crazy Springer Spaniel who would rip your arm off on a walk and run away for days to be returned filthy, but happy, by animal control; and the current family pet, Chloe, a puggle so ugly she’s cute, spoiled rotten, petrified of toddlers, and the family baby.  (Here she is, by the way, taking over my couch on a recent visit).

I would love a dog, one who would keep me company when J is out, who would run with me and just be a buddy.  But we’re simply not home enough.  I couldn’t leave a dog alone for 12 hours, it’s just not fair.  If my job was closer to home, or J had a more regular schedule, we’d reconsider it.  When I land my dream job as a housewife who eats bon bons and watches Oprah all day, a dog will be the first thing on my list of things to keep me company!

Next up: Kids vs. Pets: The Ultimate Showdown!

Hello, my friends, hello.

I know, I know.  Its been way too long.  I have no valid excuses.  I just haven’t been writing.  I’ve thought of it, often.  I made up excuses.  The bottom line is, I didn’t write.

But here I am, back like a bad boyfriend.  I’ll be better, I swear.  But I need you.  Help me help you.  Comment your hearts out.  Stoke my little ego, and I’ll come back, I promise.  No, really this time.

What have I been up to, you ask?  I’d love to tell you I was busy finding myself, doing major home renovations, or even achieving world peace.  No such luck.  It was more along the lines of: failing at P90X, going on some trips, hanging with friends and J, and suffering through rides on the commuter rail.

Even though I’ve been MIA for months, I’m going to leave you now to be with my wine, my husband, and Intervention.  But I’m going to give  you some pictures to keep you happy.  I’m uploading them via my new MacBook Pro, the newest item in my line of love/hate relationships.

(Oh, do you like the new look?  I did it months ago, but never actually posted anything with it.  Worth the wait?)

We went to Baltimore.  I ate him.

This is my parents’ hall closet.  I fear I am adopted.

We went to St. Lucia.

(The village behind us is where Geoffrey from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air is from!)

J beat me in a race in November.  I was not happy.

(and that is a turkey tied around my neck.  what?)

We had a classy Christmas cocktail party.  What’s more classy than Barrack with a condom full of blue cheese?

 

In other news, I need a life.  🙂