romping

So.

As it turns out, working two jobs is just as time-consuming (not to mention exhausting) as I thought it would be, meaning that Summer 2011 is officially The Summer of Working All The Fucking Time And Therefore Never Ever Having Any Fun Ever Under Any Circumstances Ever. Most of the time I’m too tired to even blog. WHEN DID I BECOME SUCH A FUDDY DUDDY?

I do not like this.

Anyway.

A couple weeks ago I actually had a day off (A DAY OFF! WHAT!) and spent the morning shopping with Mitch. He needed khakis that were actually khakis as opposed to cargo pants and not covered in mustard stains. Look at him! Growing up! And while at the mall, I made the mistake of venturing into Urban Outfitters where I not only spent seven dollars on novelty band-aids, but also…

Also?

I bought a romper.

I KNOW.

NBD.

In my defense, I initially grabbed a few to try on as a joke slash to remind Mitch how irresistibly sexy I look in ill-fitting onesies that show too much cellulite. But then, um, one wasn’t so bad? In fact it was kind of adorable. And, okay, fine, I bought it and I’ve worn it twice and I love it. Is that so wrong?!

Ahhhhhh I love the back! And please excuse my out-of-control lion's mane.

I immediately texted my friend Alex so she could begin judging me all the way from Houston. She has a special kind of hatred for clothing that makes adult women look like babies, a special kind of hatred I used to join her in until I became a heretic.

A heretic?

I’m operating on very little sleep these days and, as a result, not on top of my game. But whatever, y’all, I like to romp and I’m only 40% embarrassed to admit that. It’s so cute! I can belt it! Or I can NOT belt it! And I can wear necklaces with it! And SHOES! CUTE ONES! CUTE! Seriously, this is as exciting as my life gets since, besides wearing the romper on Friday for a family reunion, I can’t remember the last time I wore clothing other than Nike shorts, my camp counselor t-shirt, disgustingly loose black Bermuda work shorts, my Sonic shirt, and tennis shoes. Meaning: the romper is a big deal.

It’s cool if you all want to stop following my blog now.

In somewhat related news, here’s a quick rundown on what I’ve been up to lately if anyone even remotely cares and/or has missed me:

• Working two jobs sucks, I’m tired all the time and my feet never stop hurting
• Not having weekends off is probably one of my least favorite things ever, but that’s okay because I’ve been taking full advantage of my Tuesday nights off for kickball, ie. I threw up in a trashcan like a college girl a couple weeks ago
• Pete tore into the garbage, then ate an entire loaf of bread and a bag of cat food before exploding diarrhea all over the dining room carpet while I was at work – you can imagine the pleasant sight and smell upon my arrival
• At least I’m sort of a rockstar at (both?) my job(s?). End bragfest 2k11.
• I miss blogging. And reading y’all’s blogs. And I feel totally disconnected from, um, everyone. Not cool.
• I wear rompers now.
• I ate some vegetables last week.
• A lot has changed, but only in very boring ways.

To those of you still sticking around despite the dearth in posting, thanks. :) And on that note, I’m off to finish typing up lesson plans for camp this week because, hey, it’s 10:50 on a Sunday night and, no thanks, I don’t feel like resting.

It ain’t easy being a boss.

Or romping.


PS: Worst thing about rompers? I know everyone’s said it, but seriously, having to get completely undressed to pee. Pretty much one of the most awkward feelings ever, especially at work. Or basically anywhere.

a collection of facts & feelings: june

Today I’m linking up with my sweet and wonderful friend Joelle over at Where We Love is Home for Happy Hour (because it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, thank God). And all I’m going to say on that note is:

a. you should really take a gander at her blog because it’s adorable, and so is Joelle
b. this weekend (when not working) I feel like I’ll be drinking one thousand cocktails and beers and bottles of wine – whatever, just bring on the booze; it’s been a hell of a week





Anyway.

Moving on.

It’s been an interesting week, my first as a summer camp counselor at the Grapevine Rec and so far I’d say the best (read: most awkward) part is working with a guy I graduated high school with because neither of us have acknowledged it. Neat-o!

I’ve been invited to zero weddings this summer. Am I really that unpopular? Well, all right.

A couple weeks ago Mitch’s mom threw him a grad party which basically meant that I ignored most people and played Presidents & Assholes on the couch the entire time (but not alone, it’s fine) while drinking twelve-ish beers. That’s a good way to feel bloated for two days, in case y’all were wondering.

Mitch's stupid eyes ruin everything.

And on that note, I know I said Apples to Apples is the greatest game of all time (and it is), but it should also be said that Presidents & Assholes is the greatest DRINKING game of all time (and it is). Seriously, have you ever played? Do it. It reminds me of summertime, which is wonderful, but it specifically reminds me of last summer, ie. The Summer We Played Presidents & Assholes Absolutely Everywhere To The Point That We Started Carrying Decks of Cards on Us at All Times I’m Not Kidding. We played with friends. We played at family gatherings. We played at The Chicken. We played at weddings. I can only hope that Summer 2011 is as President-y & Asshole-y.

In a nutshell.

Once again, moving on.

Midnight is Paris (starring Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams, and a shit-ton of other people) is fantastic and totally worth seeing in theaters. I highly recommend it.

I’ve been seeing this app for awhile and, y’all, I think it’s getting pretty serious. I’d like to take this moment to profess publically: I love you, Instagram. Will you marry me and be my favorite app forever? (update: it said yes!)

Pete has gone an entire month without eating my clothes (knock on wood). I feel like this would be cause for celebration, except he’s actually just moved on to things like stairs and electrical wires.

Sidenote: besides chewing shit up, his new favorite hobby is chasing butterflies. CHASING BUTTERFLIES. I’ll try to take a video.

Not liking iced tea makes me feel absolutely positively un-southern, not to mention un-Texan. This is only amplified in the summer months. Ugh. What is wrong with me?

Not recommended: bursting into tears when your dental hygienist innocently & cheerfully asks how you're doing. She'll get really uncomfortable. And so will you. (update: seriously, I'm fine, it was just a bad day and, surprise!, I'm not great at controlling my emotions)

Also not recommended: eating two-day old chocolate chip cookies found on the bathroom counter when you wake up at 1am and can't go back to sleep. It won't cure your insomnia, but it will make you feel like a fatass.

And I just noticed how many browser tabs I have open right now. It drives Mitch crazy when I have up more than four (why? I don't know), but whatever because I'm sitting at thirteen right now.

YOU'RE MIND JUST GOT BLOWN, MITCH BAKER.


Happy freakin' weekend, y'all! I hope everyone has some really exciting plans to blow off steam from the week. Me? I'll be working, but that doesn't mean I won't have a little time off to go see a band play in Dallas on Saturday night with my main squeeze. Other than that, it's back to the grind until Tuesday (my first day off in eleven days! whoooooop!).

one through honorable mention

Welp, my sweet friend Heather over at Blonde Undercover Blonde tagged me in her 10 Favorite Things post, which was just so thoughtful of her. :) And so here ten of my favorite things:


1. The World Adult Kickball Association (WAKA) and my incredibly fun kickball team, the Bad Decision Bears.
This gets a huge shout-out since we finally had our first game last night and, okay, we lost, but it was a blast! I'm so excited for the season to really get underway and to spend even more time with my new friends & teammates. Also, flip cup and karaoke follow games (which are every Tuesday night)... Yes, please!

Hangover Wednesdays on the other hand? No, thank you. Ugh.

Christina, Kelsey and I show off our little teeny bear ears with pride.

2. New planners
I have a not-so-secret love for all things organizational, especially planners. I buy a new one every eight months or so simply because I get excited and CANNOT HELP MYSELF OH MY GOD LOOK HOW CLEAN AND NEAT THE PAGES ARE!!!!!! See what I mean? I bought myself a new one this past Sunday and relish in slowly writing in my plans. It makes me feel so orderly and in control.

Wow, that wasn't uncomfortable at all.

Please keep reading my blog.


3. Naps
If I could nap every single day (guilt-free), I absolutely would. Why? Because my bed is one of my favorite places in the world. It's soft, cozy and full of pillows just the way I like it. Laying in bed, drifting off to sleep in the afternoontime is relaxation at its finest.


4. Live music
The past two summers Mitch and I had made it a point to go to a lot of live shows and we were loving it. However, somehow in 2011 that has falled to the wayside and, well, we are not fans of that. We finally went to our first concert in nine months a few weeks ago, on a Wednesday night in Deep Ellum. We saw Freelance Whales play in such a sweet, intimate setting and we were in heaven, pure & simple.

I'm not going to shut up about Freelance Whales until everyone loves them as much as I do.

Sidenote: Driving out on a Wednesday night to see a band we both love made us more anxious than ever to get jobs and move out to Dallas for real. As we walked down Lamar to our parked cars, we daydreamed about what it would be like one day when we live just down the street and, for that matter, can drive home together without having to say goodbye. Ever. And then Mitch peed on a tree next to my car.

End sidenote.


5. Taco Bueno party burritos.
The flame has been reignited, y'all, and I am once again helpless to my addiction.


6. Rainy days
Mostly I love rainstorms and cloudy days because they give me an excuse to do nothing. Plus, they go great with Favorite Thing #3.

Double plus that when it rains in Grapevine, my backyard looks like this.


7. Mitchell Stanley
Besides being my boyfriend and, thus, an automatic favorite, Mitchell Stanley is pretty much the bee's knees. He's funny, adorable, and kind enough to jog four feet in front of me for over half of Warrior Dash because I refused to run anymore and was totally being a puss about everything, but when I pouted and yelled JUST LEAVE ME OKAY I'M HOLDING YOU BACK GOSH WHATEVER, he just kept slowly trotting along and told me, "Nope, no man left behind." Thanks, dude. :)

Nothing says love and respect like a backdrop of day-glo orange port-o-potties. Romantic.

8. My homies. 'Nough said.


9. This blog.
More specifically, having the freedom and platform to say what I want to say is one of my favorite things, without a doubt. And while at times it may feel overwhelming, I'm so lucky to have a place that's mine and people who give enough shits to read my words. Wow. How amazing is that?


10. Clark & Pete
You knew these were coming. I would be a terrible owner if they didn't make it onto every single Favorite Things list I ever make. And while Pete has moved on from my underwear to the crotches of my Nike running shorts, I try to love him. It goes without saying that Clark is as perfect as always. :)

Whatta bastard.

Honorable Mention: summer, mix CDs, nostalgia, disposable cameras, my mom's chicken & rice casserole, and 4 Lokos.
Seriously, one time Mitch and I ate an entire double batch of my mom's chicken & rice casserole and we were sick for two days. Gluttony, anyone?

Also, yes, 4 Lokos.

And I am of course referencing the original recipe.

Thanks so much, Heather, for thinking of me when you posted! It was fun to do the same. And in keeping with the pattern, I would like to tag the following to share with us ten of their favorite things:


Joelle of Where We Love Is Home (because she is my most honest friend)

Jennie of Well, Shut The Front Door! (because she is my funniest friend)

Hannah of heart to heart (because she is my sweetest friend)

Hugs, kisses and rainbows to everyone. And hey, it's almost Thursday which means it's almost Friday which means it's almost SATURDAY MORNING AT 9:30AM WHICH MEANS IT'S ALMOST TIME FOR MITCH TO GRADUATE.

Hell.

Yes.

No apologies for the all-caps. :)

unacceptable

This is the face of a pervert.

Today I came home to find that Pete had eaten and/or destroyed six pairs of my underwear. Ahem, my DIRTY underwear. Perv- to the -ERT, dude. Apparently while I was off working like a chump so I can afford to feed that ungrateful little bastard, he was busy rummaging through my laundry and chomping on my delicates, proving once again that he is interested in very little other than a. food and b. my underwear.

So, basically Mitch in dog-form.

Sorry, Mitchell.

EVERYONE WAS ALREADY THINKING IT.

Mitch in high school/ohmygod you're disgustingggg.

i'm alive, i swear: post-birthday edition

Let me just start off by saying that between substitute teaching, living in Forney during the week and my birthday festivities, I have spent only two nights in my own bed over the course of the past three weeks. Say what??

Things have been crazy, y'all, but crazy-good.

I had so enjoyed getting into the practice of writing nearly every day and, let's face it, as a writer, that's beyond important, but with everything that's been going on, I've found literally no time to even check anyone else's blogs let alone post on my own. I don't care if it's weird, but that's been tough. Anyway...

This will just be a mishmash post since a lot has happened during my brief hiatus. Let's get on with it:


Substitute Teaching...
...is a total dream. I love it. The more I sub the more I'm convinced I'm supposed to be a teacher...but the less I'm convinced I'm supposed to work for a district. What I mean is I've started worrying over the past three weeks that maybe I'm too out there to be a regular ol' teacher. I definitely don't like being put into a box, wading through red tape, etc. I just want to be able to do what I want when I want and blahblahblah I'm apparently a rebellious sixteen-year old all over again and YOU'RE NOT MY REAL MOM SO JUST LEAVE ME ALONE OKAY GOSH. Being a substitute teacher is so freeing because I don't have to be regular; I can let the kids sit on the floor while they work. I can hug them when the day is over (okay, I'm technically not allowed to do that, but when a sweet kid runs at me full-force and throws their arms around me, I'm not going to push them away, duh). I can say "suck it" in casual conversation. I can have a tattoo. Okay, so, again, technically maybe I'm not allowed to do any of those things either, but I do and the kids love me. And the other teachers love me. And I'm doing a great job. No, Mom, that's not me being full of myself; that's recognizing when I'm good at something, which is rare, so let me have my moment. Jeeeeeez.

I could honestly go on and on and on about all this (seriously, ask any of my annoyed friends), but I'll save it for another day. Besides, I can already feel myself getting all worked up and it's too early in the morning for a stress rash.


Obedience School...
...is over! And, yes, Pete graduated! So what if it was a pity, you-paid-the-money-so-I-guess-we'll-pass-him kind of graduation, it still counts. And he even wore one of those totally lame and adorable mortar boards. Duh, I took a bazillion pictures. Way to go, Pete! You can roll over, but you still swipe food off the kitchen counters and rip my mom's plants out of the ground.

We just really wanted to make this whole get-a-picture-while-Pete's-wearing-a-graduation-cap thing work.

Awkward.

What an adorable family pic, complete with what appears to be Clark Kent having a goddamn seizure. Way to ruin it, CLARK.

MATTHEW BRODERICK TRAINER! Thanks, Scott, for indulging our creepiness and taking a picture with us.

Oh yea, and a picture of the infamous Mia. Bitch.


My Birthday...
...was last Wednesday, the 16th, and I am officially (not) old. What up, 24! Show me what you've got! No, but seriously, so far being twenty-four is all right. The weekend before, a bunch of my friends got together for an impromptu house party which made us all feel like we were in college again, followed by (even more?) drinks and karaoke. I'd never realized I actually knew all the words to If You Wanna Be My Lover until we sang it because, let's face it, the Spicegirls are total crowd-pleasers. Then later I fell off a curb by a valet stand and into a muddy ditch. Mature. This past weekend, however, I trekked down to visit my best friends in Austin for a little post-birthday celebration. That's what happens when your actual birth day falls on a shitty Wednesday -- you get two birthday weekends. Anyway, it was pretty chill, but we did venture out to West 6th Street on Saturday night where I only spent eight dollars because some thirty-two year old Persian dudes came out of nowhere and bought us shots. One of them's birthday was the day after mine and he only hit on me a little, so I felt like it was okay to hang with them. No worries, Mitch has been informed and dare I say he's proud of me? Later while stopped at a red light we screamed out the car windows at an awkward couple until they made out. I repeat: mature.

And since I am still camera-less (read: DEPRESSED), I have no pictures from this past weekend. Instead please enjoy this throwback picture of my BFFs and I from our graduation night, December 2009:

We only deceptively have our shit together.

So, in a nutshell, that's what's been going down in Texas, y'all.

Howdy. I'm Andrea. I'm a twenty-four year old substitute teacher in Dallas, girlfriend to a man who should never under any circumstances be left alone with hair clippers as he will forget to leave himself sideburns, friend to bangin' yet equally immature twenty-somethings, and mother to two of the world's most thieving, conniving dogs.

And this is my universe.

you want your dog to become an addict, you know, like gamblers

This pearl of wisdom was shared with us by none other than Matthew Broderick, aka. our Matthew Broderick lookalike dog trainer. Same diff.

We had our third obedience class this past Monday and unfortunately it wasn't near as interesting as the first two times except for the fact that I spent the first ten minutes trying to take a picture of Mia with my iPhone. I was basically unsuccessful, which is weird because I wasn't trying to be subtle at all. Huh. Anyway, this is the best I could do:

So...basically just a picture of our trainer's ass. My bad.
Sidenote: Mitch has forbidden me to tell Scott (our trainer's actual name) that he looks like Matthew Broderick because Mitch is convinced he hears this all the time and I'll just annoy him. Okay, so that's probably true, but for some reason I feel like if I don't tell him, I'LL EXPLODE.

End sidenote.

So, class was whatev and the only semi-exciting thing that happened was when Charlie (one of the dogs) threw up for seemingly no reason. Mitch felt bad and was all, "Awwww, Charlie, are you okay?" and then whispered to me, I wish Charlie would've thrown up on that bitch Mia. Sweet, right?

For those not in the know, we hate Mia.

And just for gigs, here is a picture I took when we were supposed to be teaching Pete how to walk on a leash but did this instead:

That's probably not correct leash handling.

PS: In totally unrelated (but totally exciting) news, tomorrow I have my first substitute teaching orientation! HEY-OH! That's right, y'all, after over a year of applying to sub absolutely everywhere, I finally heard back from a district that's crazy enough to give me a shot. Subbing, at least. Am I thrilled it's all the way out in Forney and an hour away from home? God. No. But at this point, I'll take what I can get AND it means I get to stay the night at Mitch's tonight. Score. Keep y'all's fingers crossed that after I'm finally in the system I'll actually get called to sub! :)

a collection of facts & feelings

If I lived alone, I'd probably spend less time wearing pants.

Being a middle school photographer makes me feel like a rockstar when the kids are excited to see me and remember my name.

I wish I could eat Taco Bueno party burritos like, all day, every day.

This absolutely cracks me up.

Sometimes I resent my dogs. And by my dogs, I mostly mean Pete. And that makes me feel like a bad person.

I like that I like beer.

To paraphrase Mandy Moore in License to Wed, I'd marry Mitch Baker tomorrow in a potato sack dress in the middle of a rainstorm if it meant spending the rest of my life with him.

And on that note, I have an inexplicable fascination with all things Mandy Moore.

I really believe in this.

If there's a Law & Order SVU marathon on somewhere, I can kiss all thoughts of productivity goodbye.

Yum. To both.

I wish I took myself more seriously and gave myself more credit.

I waste a lot of time here. And here. And here. And I never get tired of reading this.

My friends are so effortlessly cool and hot at the same time that it makes me feel a lot cooler and hotter just being known and loved by them. Not that looks are the most important thing in the world; I just happen to have really bangin' friends.

Briarwood. My bad for ruining this picture.

Which reminds me of the time in ninth grade athletics that our teacher asked us what was the most important thing to look for in friends and I answered ummmm...they have to be good looking? No one laughed and I was sent to the principal's office. I went to private school where no one was funny. IT WAS A JOKE, BITCHES. Whatev. I'm over it.

Anyway, it's Tuesday. I love Tuesdays. Happy Tuesday, y'all.

the obedience school hierarchy

A few weeks ago I introduced y’all to the latest addition to the family, Pete, and mentioned we’d be starting training classes this January. Well, it’s January and Pete likes to eat my favorite pair of earrings, so as of last night, classes have commenced. Thank God.

Now, I don’t mean to be a snob, but as soon as we walked in the door it was glaringly apparent that we were the best ones. Our classmates include a girl (woman?) about my age and her adorably huge and furry puppy named Charlie; an older woman and her elderly mother with their fuzzy Pomeranian, Coco; a lady recently moved to Dallas from Boston and aqua colored parka-wearing Chihuahua, Duke; and a woman with her two young daughters and two annoying miniature Huskies, Rocky and Mia.

Mia is a bitch.

NO.

Mitch and I want to start the We Hate Mia Club and pass out membership cards to everyone in our class because, seriously, fuck that dog.

Sidebar: did you know that a miniature Husky is actually an Alaskan Klee Kai? This woman was real impressed with herself for raising (the world’s most annoying) Alaskan Klee Kais but, lady, no one gives a shit.

End sidebar.

The point is that this dog, Mia, did not stop yapping/SCREAMING for nearly sixty minutes straight. At one point, my ears started ringing and it was hard to understand our Matthew-Broderick-lookalike-trainer.

I work the nightshift at Petsmart.

I would have felt sorry for Mia’s owner had she not been so aloof about the whole thing, but my god, she just sat there and DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT IT. Didn’t even try. Just said, Mia’s a fussy one, hehehe, like that was supposed to make us all go, OHHHHHH, she’s just FUSSY! I don’t mind the incessant yipping now!

Whatever.

There’s just a clear hierarchy in our group, even after the first class. I mean, let’s be serious, Pete is number one, a fact Mitch and I found shocking since he frequently pees on my comforter, knocks over my glass of orange juice, and swipes pie off my plate all before 11am on a Sunday. I guess this means he’s smart but a dick. Cool. Anyway, being the super-nerds that we are, Mitch and I (seriously, just HAPPENED) to sit in the front of the classroom, so Pete was used in most of the demonstrations (well, whenever Matthew Broderick wasn’t trying to choke out Mia, that is). I’m almost embarrassed by how nervous and excited Mitch and I would get every time Pete was acting as the example. Our faces would turn red, we would grasp hands and, okay, possibly even SQUEAL.

Judge us.

I had to keep reminding us both that Pete is a DOG. A DOG.

Needless to say, when Pete repeatedly aced every drill, we clapped and cheered annoyingly loud while all the other dogs and their owners watched us with varying degrees of envy and hatred, except for the old ladies and Coco. We might actually be making friends with them because Pete and Coco seem to want to date. Or get it on. It’s hard to tell.

So, the obedience school hierarchy, when broken down, looks a little something like this (and, YES, I immediately typed this into a note on my iPhone last night as soon as class was over):


Pete (SUCK IT, BITCHES)
Charlie
Coco
Duke (Sorry your mom seems like a total airhead AND dresses you like a girl)
Rocky (I’m not as annoying as Mia, but close!)




MIA (.............)

We’re obviously really excited for the next five weeks. Oh, and I won’t even go into how superior I felt to all the other owners since I’m awesome and brought my own clicker AND knew all about Pavlov’s dogs & classical conditioning (pysch minor shoutout!).

My mom was all, it’s not a competition, it’s just obedience class. And she’s right: it’s not a competition because have you SEEN what we’re up against? Team Townsend-Baker for the win!

twenty-ten, over & out

Two thousand and ten, you were quite the challenge when it came to life post-grad. I turned 23, fell in love, tried my hand at accounting (wtf?), dealt with unemployment, terrible employment, and unemployment once again, spent a lot of money enjoying a summer I didn't expect to have, thankfully attended more weddings than funerals, got a tattoo, watched too much Jersey Shore while drinking too much wine, made new friendships while rekindling the old, became the proud mother of two (count 'em, TWO) dogs and kissed my sanity goodbye.

Thanks for the ups, let's forget the downs, and here's to a fantastic year ahead of us all!

BRING IT ON, 2011.

a weary world rejoices

Here's to sweet time spent with sweet family, hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, puppy presents, hideous purple bathrobes gifted from great-grandmothers, and another wonderful holiday all together. Merry Christmas, y'all!

i'm alive, i swear

I feel so out of touch with the real world.

And by the real world I, of course, mean the internet.

My parents, Mitch and I just got back last night from a family hunting trip out in Hickville, USA (aka. West Texas) where there is absolutely no cell phone service. Also, coincidentally, there was absolutely no hunting for me as I prefer to read and nap. Hunters, hunt your hearts out. Just leave me out of it.

But isn't this a great look for Mitch?

I promise that in real life he looks much hotter. And less like Elmer Fudd.

Anyway, since Christmas Eve is tomorrow (tomorrow!!) I'm spending this evening quietly enjoying a homemade facial mask and tons of free foodstuffs from my Neiman Marcus assistant buyer friend, Eileen (who, in case you couldn't tell, has the coolest job ever).

Happy almost Christmas! Enjoy this picture of my two (TWO!) puppies, please & thanks. And no, it never makes me feel pathetic to talk about my dogs as much as I do. It's fine.

Hello, we're the Townsend-Baker dogs and we're pretty damn adorable.



Oh, and PS: just to be totally anticlimactic, my big "secret" of last week was that my two very dear friends Kelsey and Harrison got engaged this past Saturday. I was overly excited to find out a week before Harry proposed and despeartely wanted to tell the world; however, I am pleased to say I was able to keep it to myself. Look at me, I'm growing up. Anyway, congratulations, Kelsey and Harrison! I can think of no two people more deserving of true love and happiness. :)

a proper introduction

Well, World, meet Pete Townsend.*

Pete, the World.

Hello.

It’s about time the two of you were introduced since you’ve been a part of our lives for over twenty-four hours now (and a taxing twenty-four hours they have been). But now that we’ve made it through our first day together, things have calmed down long enough for me to sneak away to write this.

Pete is my new puppy.

He’s a seven-month old hound dog I adopted through a rescue and adoption organization here in Dallas called Paws in the City. I feel a little insane adopting a dog this close to Christmas and when I’m, oh yea, not steadily employed, but something in my gut told me this was the right decision. About a month ago I wrote about my other dog, Clark Kent, and her diagnosis of Shar Pei fever. Episodes of fever and swelling (associated with Shar Pei fever) are thought to be brought on by stress, whether physical or emotional, so my thought process is that I can reduce Clark’s emotional stress by providing her with a playmate. I just can’t be home every second of every day, so she needs another dog to play with and keep her company.

Enter Pete.

Ummmm...hello again.

He’s a bit of a mess, all lanky puppy arms and legs, scavenging for food in the trashcans and pissing all over my carpet. But he and Clark seem to love each other, and that makes me happy. All the kinks will get worked out in time and, of course, with extensive training. So get ready, Pete, because come January, I’m enrolling your ass in Puppy Kindergarten.

My new Christmas wish is for patience.

And for Pete to not destroy my house.

Yea, that's right. Eat your bone, but nothing else. Except maybe food. Dog food.


*Not to be confused with Pete Townshend, although the similarities are uncanny.