Monthly Archives: April 2007

Apr30

Henry Chills Out

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Henry Chills Out

We had this styrofoam cooler from Joey’s uncle that we’d brought some milk and scraps for Henry back in. It was sitting on the floor and Henry was sitting by it in a cute “I’m cute, Mom!” sort of way.

My little brain began to think. “Hmm, I wonder if Henry would fit in the styrofoam cooler?”

So I picked him up, took the lid off, and dropped him in. He didn’t so much like being in it, but he wasn’t struggling either. He just sat there and looked at me, pathetically.

I set the lid on, just to see if he’d try to get out. He didn’t, so I took it off again.

“Something’s wrong with Henry. He’s not struggling in the cooler!” I yelled to Joey who was doing homework.

“What did you do to him? He’s where?” Joey asked, and came bounding around the corner with the camera.

“Ohh! Poor guy!” Henry looked at Joey with big, sleepy eyes. “He must be super tired.”

He took several pictures of Henry before calling, “Come!”

Henry just sat there, looking at him. “Is he stuck?” I asked.

“I don’t think so…” Joey responded, snapping pictures at strange angles.

“I think he needs help.” So I picked him up and scratched him behind the ears for awhile before he climbed off me to go flop on the wood floor in the entryway.

He’s so lazy.

Apr30

Henry Is Theologically Confused

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Henry Is Theologically Confused

Our neighbors like to borrow Henry when they go play tennis. They think it’s funny/cute that he freaks out and chases the ball the whole time. So we told them they could borrow him whenever they wanted.

That was at 2:30 p.m. yesterday. (Joey and I were going to the store and thought it made more sense for Henry to be playing tennis than sleeping in the kitchen.)

We got home from the store at 4:00 and Henry was not yet home.

We cleaned the house until 5:00, and Henry was not yet home.

I made dinner, cleaned the veggies, and packed Joey’s lunch until 6:00, and Henry was not yet home.

I began to wonder if our neighbors had dog-napped Henry since they like him so much. Joey began to wonder the same. We waited until 6:10 before we called over there to see where he was. (Maybe he ran away when they were playing tennis?)

Our neighbor answered the phone, cheerily as normal. When asked how Henry was she responded, “Oh, he’s just sitting here on the couch with me watching Bishop Jakes!”

Bishop Jakes?! OY VEY!

“I’ll bring him over at 6:30, after this is done.” She said.

Joey and I looked at each other.

“Is Henry watching a Catholic televangelist?! Do they make those?” I asked.

“No, it’s much worse than that. Bishop Jakes one of those Health and Wealth guys on TBN or something like it.”

We shuddered. There’s nothing worse than one of those big-haired televangelists on TBN who just want to sock it to you and take your money and run. (After they “heal” someone’s broken arm and slay a few people in the spirit, of course)

“Does Henry know where we keep the checkbook?” I ventured.

Apr27

The Return Of The Breathe Right

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The Return Of The Breathe Right

So I guess I don’t have very good aim when throwing things in the trash when I’m half asleep. (Or when I’m fully awake, for that matter…)

I got up right away when my alarm went off, quite pleased that it was Friday. Henry (somehow on our bed again) was all stretched out and ready for his Morning Rubs. He looked really cute so I obliged him.

I was scratching his furry little back when I felt something odd in his fur. It felt like some kind of tape. Joey hadn’t woken up yet (it was 6:30 a.m.!) so the lights were off and it was really dark. I unstuck whatever the sticky substance was and held it up to the light by the window.

“AAAAUGH!” I screamed, fairly quietly.

“Maaabuaaaaahhhhhh…..” said Joey, tossing around in the covers. Henry just looked up at me like, Mom, what’s your problem?

“It’s….it’s….it’s a Breathe Right!” I poked at it. It was all distorted in shape and wadded up–very similar to the one I found in my pants the night before. In fact, it seemed to be the very same one. “I must not have thrown it in the trash like I thought I did.”

Joey rolled around and mumbled some stuff. Poor guy.

Henry and I threw away the Breathe Right for sure this time and went out in the living room where he immediately wanted to play fetch, get scratched, go outside, and eat breakfast all at the same time. (He’s way too high energy.)

And, thus, I hope this chapter in the Breathe Right saga is closed. Seriously.

Apr27

Joey Gives Me A Haircut

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Joey Gives Me A Haircut

When I got my “stacked bob” haircut a couple months ago, the stylist left it a little bit long in the back. A sort of “I Can Tell This Is Going To Be A Mullet Tail In A Month” kind of long. I tried to get her to fix it but she didn’t understand. And when I went back for a trim a month ago, she still didn’t understand and cut it the same way.

Sigh. The trials of moving across the country and having to find a new hair stylist.

It has definitely grown into a Mullet Tail. NOT CUTE. The rest of the haircut is just fine…except for my Mullet Tail. I played with it all day long yesterday even trying to figure out if I could cut it off myself in the bathroom with a mirror and some scissors.

I decided not to push my luck.

This morning, however, I couldn’t take it anymore. I looked at the back of my hair in the mirror and made an exectutive decision.

“Joey? Can you come here and cut my hair?”

“What?!” Joey yelped and came into the bathroom dragging his feet. “You want me to do what to your hair?”

“Cut it. See this mullet part?”

“Yessssss….” trailed off Joey.

“I want you to cut that part off.”

“How?” He was not excited about this. “What if I wreck it?”

“You can’t wreck it. Just cut straight across here,” I demonstrated, “And you’ll be fine.”

“OK…fine…” He took the scissors in hand and, slowly, began to snip. I felt hair fall on to my shoulder with a satisfying little fluff.

Moments later, “I think it’s higher on the right side than on the left!” Joey panicked.

“It’s OK, just fix it….” I soothed.

A few seconds of high concentration later and Joey said, “OK, done. How does it look?”

It was perfect. NO MORE MULLET TAIL!

“Sweetie! You did perfect!” I cried.

Joey cleaned the fuzz off my shoulders and walked out of the bathroom, quite pleased with himself indeed. The entire hair cutting venture has been a win-win situation. He feels great that he did awesome cutting my hair and I feel great that I no longer look business in the front and suspicious in the back. (There was no “party” in my Mullet Tail. It just looked suspicious.)

Apr26

The Breathe Right

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The Breathe Right

Some of you may remember a previous post on my Pops’ Breathe Rights. Some of you may not, so I’m including it here for a back story.

When Pops, Mommy and The Kid came down last month, Pops brought along his Breathe Rights. I assured him that he’d be in big trouble if I found any in unusual places. Fortunately for him, I didn’t find any.

While he was here.

Last night I wasn’t feeling very good. It was chilly outside (yay!) so I put on my lounge pants and a t-shirt and loafed around with Henry all evening while Joey went to church.

Around 9:30 I got into bed, Joey read me Pooh (Kanga and Roo came to the Hundred Acre Wood and Piglet got a bath, poor thing) and was just about finished with the story when I said, “There’s something funny on the inside of my pants.”

“Oh?” Joey said as I struggled with the comforter to try to get to the bottom of what was scratching my ankle.

I flipped the lining of my lounge pants out and, to my great astonishment and horror, there was a Breathe Right.

Regardless of the fact that my stomach was really hurting, I began to laugh uncontrollably. “How did a Breathe Right get inside my pants?!” I asked Joey.

He was stymied. “Maybe in the laundry?” He offered.

Maybe, indeed.

Obviously Pops’ legacy of Breathe Rights has followed him down to Texas. And, thus, he’s in Big Trouble.

I fell asleep shortly after I removed said Breathe Right from my pants (it was really stuck on there) and came from my sleepy haze suddenly at 10:30 when Joey finished his Greek and came to bed.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“Going to bed,” he replied. He thinks it’s funny when I’m disoriented in my sleep.

“Am I wearing pants?” I asked.

“Yes, you are.” He replied.

“I thought I took those off.” (I must have gotten them confused with the Breathe Right.)

“No, you didn’t. You’re wearing pants.”

And we settled in to sleep with Henry on the foot of the bed. (We’ve given up.)

I got up when my alarm went off this morning (yay!) and felt much better than I did last night (YAY!). I sat on the floor to give Henry his Morning Rubs and Joey came in to pat me on the head. “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” I replied. Then, suddenly, “Hey! I’m wearing pants! I thought I took those off.”

Joey laughed. “No, you never did.”

See what Dad’s Breathe Right did to my brain?!

Apr25

Codependent

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Codependent

I think I’m codependent on The Kid.

I need him to answer Great Questions of Life for me, so I call him all the time to get the answers. Such as:
1. Should I buy a cookie with tons of frosting on it?
2. I need to go to the bathroom, what do I do?
3. There’s cookies here, should I have one or not?
4. I’m bored, what should I do?
5. Should I get a soda?

Poor The Kid. He is often bothered by my phone calls at strange hours of the day or night. (Most particularly doing Youth Group. And sometimes during church, but those are text messages.)

I also feel compelled to tell The Kid everything bad that I do. (So sometimes my Verizon bill is high if I have to take lots of pictures of things and send them to him on his phone.) I thought maybe this codependency would end when I moved to Texas, but it seems to have pretty much remained the same.

Gotta love technology, eh?

Um, The Kid, should I get a soda? …….

Apr25

My Unwise Decision

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My Unwise Decision

I got up this morning feeling really awake and energetic. I thought to myself, “I should wax my eyebrows!”

And so I did.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in pain and free of some obnoxious eyebrow hair. (I’m not really sure why I’m telling you this.)

I washed my face, dried it and looked up in the mirror.

“AAAAUGH!!”

All the skin around my eyebrows about an inch up and an inch down was fire engine red.

“I cannot go like this!” I wailed, as Joey made his way into the bathroom.

“Wow…” He said.

I started trying to find ways to do my hair to cover up the red blotches that were now covering my forehead. “If I wear it all forward like this you can’t really tell, right?”

Joey chose wisely and left the bathroom so as not to have to answer any further questions.

And, thus, I sit here with a blotchy forehead. Remind me never to wax my eyebrows before I leave for the morning.

Apr25

Henry is a Renegade

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Henry is a Renegade

Because Joey’s getting soft in his old age, he started allowing Henry to sleep on the floor in our room about 3 months ago. This was fine because Henry didn’t think he could jump up on to the bed and bother us while we were sleeping.

Recently he has learned that he, in fact, can. He jumps on the bed in the middle of the night and burrows around for prime real estate OR sits on our pillows. It’s not our favorite.

He’s been sleeping in his kennel a lot lately.

Joey and I bought some 6 1/2 inch bed risers at Bed Bath and Beyond, certain that our $10 fix would keep Henry from bounding on to the bed at 3:00 a.m to lick our faces

Last night poor Joey was extremely tired. At 8:00 p.m. he looked at me, pathetically, and said, “Can we go to bed?”

“Now??” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m SUPER tired.”

We agreed to each do one more thing and then we’d go to bed. I took a bath (a real hardship, I know) and Joey worked on Greek. I think I got the better end of the deal on that one.

At 8:35 I came out and asked Joey if he was finished. He looked really drowsy. He decided that he was so he put up his Greek, took Henry out one last time, and crawled into bed to read me Winnie the Pooh. (It was Eeyore’s birthday last night, in case you’re wondering.)

I sat up and read until 9:30, but Joey conked out as soon he closed Pooh.

Henry was curled up in the down comforter on the floor, sleeping peacefully. I hoped he’d stay there. He was really, really cute.

This morning when my alarm went off, something fluffy and soft wriggled around by my toes.

“Henry?!” I asked, feeling quite awake from my 9 hours of sleep.

Joey, who was not getting up yet, said, “Didn’t you put him in bed with us?”

“No…” I said, “I thought you must have.”

“Raaaaattssss….”Joey mumbled, not really caring that our “$10 fix” didn’t fix nothin’.

So apparently Henry can still jump on the bed. (That kid’s got ups.) At least he didn’t: lick, burrow, or jump on us. I suppose we ought to be thankful for small favors.

Either we’re going to have to get used to him occasionally waking up on our bed, or he’s sleeping in his kennel again.

Apr24

I Am Boring

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I Am Boring

Apparently my life’s real boring right now. So dull, in fact, that I could not convince myself to get out of bed and get started today.

(This could be due mainly to the fact that it’s rainy, gloomy and cool and my bed was so comfy…)

Joey is quite responsible, HE actually got up when his alarm clock went off (at 5:00 a.m., I might add) and wound up giving Henry a bath. (Henry’s, um, sick. We missed him crying in the middle of the night so he had an accident in his kennel. Poor baby.)

Me?

My alarm went off at 6:00 and I got up, looked in the mirror, petted my still-wet puppy and went back to bed.

Ten minutes later Joey came in the room. “Are you going to get up?”

“No.” I said, burrowing into my pillow and holding my bear by my head.

“But your alarm went off…” He was subtly saying: I got up when MY alarm went off, you should too.

“Yeah….I reset it.” It’s been a bad habit for me the last couple weeks. (Resetting my alarm, I mean, not getting up. Although getting up FEELS like a bad habit…)

“OK,” Joey said, kindly, and shooed Henry out of the room.

Henry sat at the door and cried for a few minutes before realizing that I was not going to come out and give him his “morning rubs” or play with him. Again, poor baby.

Twenty minutes later, my alarm went off. I considered rolling over and pretending it wasn’t happening, but the noise was so annoying that I forced myself to get up. I made the bed in the dark before going out into the living room.

I was greeted by bright light, a still-damp dog, and an alert husband. “Babe, you’re finally up!”

“Rawr.” I said, and began to wander around pointlessly. It took 15 minutes before I could get excited enough about the day to actually get in the shower.

And, thus, I conclude that I must be Very Boring Indeed or I’d be able to get up easier in the morning.

Apr23

Reasons Why I’m Glad I’m Not Our Downstairs Neighbor

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Reasons Why I’m Glad I’m Not Our Downstairs Neighbor

1. Joey chases Henry around the floor by galloping on his hands and knees and makes a big raucous doing it. He probably sounds like some kind of elephant or other large beast to someone down below.

2. I very regularly throw things off the balcony (such as large tree branches that Joey cut off, ash from cleaning the fireplace, etc…) and try to miss their balcony, but I can’t always be sure.

3. When I sweep my balcony every day, it winds up in the neighbors balcony down below. I used to feel bad about this until I leaned over mine enough to see in theirs and discovered that, while there’s a really large and noticeable line of junk I’ve swept down (leaves, Henry’s fur, Joey’s hair, etc…) the neighbors haven’t done anything about it. They also have overturned Rubbermaid containers out there so I’m not sure they even go on their balcony.

When considering our downstairs neighbors, though, one must realize several things:

  • We have never actually seen the neighbor’s face so we’re not entirely sure he has one. I did, however, see him carrying a cat in a cat carrier. So we (mostly I) figure he’s insane.
  • He’s behind on his rent a lot. I know this from sneaking over and reading the delinquent notices that the landlords post on his door. (All of you who are shushing me right now, stop it. You’d do it too.) They’re sometimes there for several days before he takes them down.
  • He’s got something in front of his bedroom window that looks vaguely like a headboard. Why someone would put a headboard in front of a window is beyond me. (Another reason why we–mostly I–think he’s insane.) Unless, of course, it’s to prevent armed robbery or something, in which case I’d just rather put a steel plate in front of my window. Or get a raging pit bull or something. But I’d never sleep in front of the window like that.

So, for many reasons, I’m glad I’m not my downstairs neighbor. He seems real nuts.