Of dog hair, Oreos, and kissing diseases

I have mono.

There, I said it. I've been sick for approximately....97 months? No, really, since mid-May. I finally went to the doctor at the end of May since I was sleeping about 20 hours a day and still feeling like shit, and that was the diagnosis.

If you're friends with me on Facebook, you've already had to endure daily updates and whining about it, so I'll spare you. I will say that I'm finally feeling better, thankyouverymuch. Better enough that I had copious cocktails last weekend and was feeling like my normal self.

How does one get mono as an adult? Well, I had it in middle school. Apparently every person has the virus dormant in their bodies, and if you've had it as a kid then if you get it again as an adult if you're under extreme stress. Which I can't believe anyone would categorize me as being highly stressed, what with my father dying and me hating my job and the current economic conditions and a nine-year-old going on twenty-nine. Oh, and crazy in-laws with a psychotic dog? And a good amount of friend drama to boot? Nope, not me.

On the good side, I caught up on all the sleep I've missed since 2001 and also got to watch a good amount of the Casey Anthony trial. I can honestly say that between the trial and the whole hanging chad fiasco, I will never move to Florida. NEVER.

Also, I've gotten to spend lots of time with the dogs. They are the funniest critters ever. Rufus is still his regular curmudgeonly self, and Nick is this goofy, loving lion-looking dog. The dog hair is driving me nuts, but that's what lint rollers are for. I won't go into the thousands of dollars in damage that Nick has inflicted on our beautiful master bathroom. I'll let you conjure that visual up yourselves.

I still love Oreos. Oreos also love me, since they won't leave my ass.

Missed y'all...

Going to the dogs

The last week or two has been a total whirlwind around here. Having a puppy is somewhat like having a newborn all over again, only babies don't usually piss on your carpet.

Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. Nick is such a wonderful dog. Sweet, playful, snuggly, smart...I could go on and on about how great he is. Even Rufus is warming up to him slowly but surely. Yesterday, he actually kissed Nick a few times - and anyone that knows him will agree with me that Rufus is a Love Miser. He is notoriously stingy with love and it's a major deal if he gives anyone or anything a kiss. So I'm taking this as a positive sign, at least until I make sure he's not testing Nick to see how tasty he is.

One of the most interesting things about this experience is that I'm getting to know so many people through this. When we got Rufus, the breeder was in Maryland and an older lady who really wasn't the warm and fuzzy type. And really, she had sort of had Rufus dumped on her and didn't have a personal attachment to him at all.

I really wanted to avoid that experience this time, and lo and behold not only did I find Nick's grandmas Janet and Penni to be wonderful people, but a whole group of other corgi lovers who have been so welcoming and warm. I feel so, so lucky not only to have welcomed Nick into my life, but to have met so many great people is just the cherry on the sundae.

Mmmm...sundae.

Okay, refocusing! Anyway, there really hasn't been too much going on around here other than trying to make sure the dogs are acclimated and no one chews up too much stuff. Rufus has taken it as his personal mission to steal anything Nick shows an interest in and hide it...then Nick finds it and hides it...and Rufus finds it...and Nick finds it....

We have done a crapload of work in the yard. Last year, with my dad being sick and having to travel down to The Land that Time Forgot almost every weekend, the yard went to crap so we have a lot to do. It looks fantastic. Maybe even so fantastic that we will actually keep up with it when it's a million degrees outside. Actually, when that happens we will probably be painting the inside of the house, which needs some serious help. As of March 1st, we have been in the house six years and way beyond the life span of the paint. It's bad. If the dogs could hold paint rollers...

Introducing the new blog - starring Nick the Cardi!

I figured since the dogs are pretty entertaining on their own right, I didn't need to be riding on their coattails anymore.

Introducing our new blog - Nick the Cardi - International Man of Mystery!

http://nickthecardi.blogspot.com/

Feel free to link if you'd like. I'm hoping Nick's adventures will be entertaining to more than just me!

Mulch mania and puppy playdate

I must be insane to get a new puppy and have ten cubic yards of mulch delivered to my house in the same week.

Nick has settled in here really, really well. He is such a sweet boy, loves to snuggle but has no problem hanging out and chewing a bone or unraveling the umpteenth roll of toilet paper. He is very thankful that the hoomans in this house apparently are dumb as hell and keep refilling the rolls. Housebreaking is definitely going a lot better - we had one really bad day where I went to bed exhausted from cleaning up accident after accident and was really wondering what I was doing wrong. And since then, I've been way more diligent about keeping on top of taking him outside for walks and making sure I pay more attention to his signals. Much better!

But maybe I'm the one that is housebroken. If it works, you can call it whatever you want to.

We wore his little ass out today. The mulch was delivered yesterday, so we spent a few hours in the yard hauling mulch and spreading it. Up and back, up and back...then he slept for 3 hours. Then, off to Monkey Man's baseball practice so he could be loved up on by all the boys and their parents. After that, a quick drive-thru lunch and we went to Cat Door's house so Nick could play with their new miniature pinscher puppy Stony.

Stony, according to Nick, is the puppy from hell. He might only weigh three pounds, but he would do Flying Burrito Brothers jumps onto poor Nick's head, wrestle until Nick would finally stop playing Mr. Nice Guy...I think it was a good experience for both of them, not to mention that Cat Door and The Mrs. really loved Nick. They want to love Rufus too, but he says No Thank You. I was very pleased to see that Nick had very good manners and didn't try to eat Stony The Bossy but maybe twice the whole time. Considering Nick eats a bowl of food equal to the size of Stony for breakfast and dinner, I thought that was quite commendable.

Anyway, I am getting a new blog up and running purely just for Nick and his adventures. I got the template set up last night and hopefully will take it live tomorrow if I can squeeze it in with the other 27 things we have planned. Bringing Nick into this family has opened up such a new and wonderful world to me filled with new friends and new adventures, and I thought he deserved his own blog. Especially since he is running for President next time.

I hate leftovers

As in leftover fried brain and exhaustion.

We rolled back in from Chattanooga this morning around 1 AM.

Nick finally fell asleep around 3 AM after howling in protest at his sleeping arrangement.

He slept in the guestroom bed with me.

I KNOW. I WILL LIVE TO REGRET IT.

I'm still feeling kind of foggy, and a little stressed out over trying to keep Rufus happy while this interloper has come into his home. It's about to worry Monkey Man to death because he wanted there to be rainbows and unicorns and two corgis holding paws and skipping into the sunset. Yeah, it will probably never happen, because corgis can't skip. Overall though, Rufus has exceeded our expectations for coexisting peacefully with Nick.

And Nick is just the sweetest, sweetest thing ever. I emailed Janet today to let her know how happy we are to have him.

Here's hoping to get some sleep, because I know tomorrow I'm going to actually have to have some brain cells available for my job.

Wine is fine

Somehow, the gods are smiling on me tonight. Not only did my son win the Veggie Car Derby for the third grade today (don't ask), but he and Joey are at the big monster truck show. And I am not.

For two consecutive Mother's Day weekends, I ended up at the big monster truck show at the beach. It might sound like heaven, but it seems like every time we've done that it's unseasonably cold or it rains and we end up on metal bleachers freezing to death and getting sand in our teeth. Not exactly my idea of properly exfoliating - I'd rather be in a spa rather than sitting on bleachers watching women go by in tube tops with breasts so saggy they're smuggling fifths of liquor in under each one. I get a little jealous because I can only do a pint at this point in my life.

I settled in tonight with a wonderful bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Priming my liver for the big wine expo this weekend. Last year, I think I was drunk by 1 PM but kept rolling until 4...took a nap, went to dinner, and was drunk again by 8. Needless to say, I am hoping this year to just maintain a nice warm and fuzzy feeling versus going into a coma at 4:30 and waking up at 6 to discover everyone is waiting on me and my mascara is somewhere around my chin.

The out-laws are coming into town tomorrow to babysit. My friend Heather said on IM last night, "Yay! Free Babysitting!" to which I replied, "Oh no, it's not free - there's a cost. MY SOUL."

The last time they were here, you might recall, my father-in-law lectured everyone at Christmas dinner how men need to eat more turkey to make their sex lives better. Good information that every 9-year-old boy needs to know. I can only imagine what sorts of wisdom he will impart this time without us to filter. I am already daydreaming about the phone call I could conceivably get from the principal next week.

I am counting down the days until we bring Big Nick home. Oh, did I mention that after nagging for 3 years that Joey decided we need new carpet? Mmm hmm. I never said he was the practical one, did I? New puppy + new carpet = WTF were you thinking?

Have a lovely, lovely Saturday. Hug the ones you love.

We've got personality...personality....

Dear Nick,

You are too freaking adorable. I could watch you on the puppycam all day long if I didn't have an actual job to do.

But do me a favor, please? Stop chewing on your brother's head.

And also, if you could find a way to sleep without displaying your junk to the world, that would be lovely. Modesty is highly underrated.

Love,

Your Hooman Mom

*****

I finally got my application faux pas worked out and just spent the last hour filling out an online personality evaluation.

It's amazing how many times and how many different ways they can ask you if stealing is wrong. Or if you like people. Or if you can accept being told what to do with no recourse.

What I probably *should* say? Hello, I really would like this job. I'm a team player that never hesitates to pitch in whenever and wherever needed, I work quickly and enjoy repetitive tasks.

What I *want* to say? Yo, Holmes. Give me this damn job, preferably at what I'm already making and if possible, close to the building with the Starbucks in it. Oh, and I don't really like to work all that hard, so if you can keep it easy on the workload, m'kay?

Meet Big Nick

It's official. I'm in love with a guy with more body hair than should be allowed.

Good thing he's a corgi.

Meet Nick - or Big Nick, as Monkey Man has already dubbed him. The newest member of the pack here at Builder Mama.

Many, many thanks to Janet Suber with Mockingbird Cardigans for entrusting me with this little superstar. He is simply everything I have ever wanted in a puppy - adorable and sweet and smart as heck. This is going to be a blast.

It was a wonderful weekend - so many adorable puppies, the senior members of the pack Scout and Spencer, and lots of folks that love corgis. It doesn't get much better than that. I have to admit though, having people say, "Oh, you're Builder Mama!" is kind of cool. Either that or I really need a secret identity when I'm stalking corgi blogs. But it was awesome watching the puppies get evaluated for body structure and temperament, I felt like I was a member of a super secret society or something. I didn't learn the secret handshake though.

Off to get a little dinner with my boys, who have been drooling over Nick pictures. Monkey is scared to death that Nick will grow up before we get to bring him home, so Janet - if you could quit putting Miracle Gro in his food for a week or so, that would be great. ;-)

Don't put me down with a pat-down

Tomorrow, I'm off for Chattanooga to see if I can find a little furry friend to call my very own. If you hear a high-pitched squealing on Friday night, that's me.

Here's hoping the travel gods and goddesses smile on me. No lost luggage (almost always happens), no missed connections, no flat tires on my rental car, and for heaven's sakes, not another pat-down like I got in the Bahamas. I guess I look like a drug smuggler or something, because the other two people picked were Rastafarians. That woman got so up and personal with me I think she knew my name and address and if I was ovulating or not.

Have a great weekend, y'all, and there will absolutely be pictures when I get back. Squeeeeee!

Amy, what you gonna do?***

***With apologies to Pure Prairie League***

After my father died, the constant treadmill of running back and forth to The Land That Time Forgot and here came to a thankful end. And I don't mean that in any disrespect to my father - Lord knows, I would've gone to the end of the earth and back every hour of every day if he needed me - but that road between here and there isn't one that I particularly relish.

My lucky sister, Kathie, lives yet another 45 minutes north of me. She had even more delight added on to her trip. At one point, we were both going on the same weekends, then as he rallied we'd swap off on weekends.

As he left us, we were left with all this time on our hands. And my brother-in-law, with idle hands being the Devil's playground, had been surfing the internet looking for whippets. As in dogs. (All perverts sign off here, 'kay?)

I guess he never had pets as a kid - and he is in all honesty a great guy, a wonderful doctor, but a different breed. Which is probably how he became attracted to sight hounds like borzois, greyhounds, and whippets. There have been many of them in their family since he and my sister married, with varying success.

I think this time, they've met their match. He found a beguiling little lady down in North Carolina named Amy. The week after my father died, he conned my sister into traveling down to see her and of course my sister (sucka!) fell totally in love with her. She is a real beauty and just as sweet as she can be.

All I can say is it's probably not a good idea to fall for the dog that the breeder has named Devil Dog.

Amy has eaten my brother-in-law's eyeglasses, his Blackberry, one shoe out of seven different pairs of shoes, an elevated sprinkler head out in the yard, who knows how many toys, and the motherlode of all dog fodder:

The feet of the Baby Jesus. Yes, she ate the feet of the Baby Jesus after she managed to pull him out of the Nativity set. Devil Dog strikes again.

Unfortunately, poor Amy and her big greyhound brother Teddy (who, by the way, is so big that he can literally eat a stick of butter off the middle of a table without making any serious effort or moving anything on the table) got giardia - they have no idea how but the poor pups have been miserably sick. So for at least a few days while she's been feeling punky, my sister's house has been free from destruction.

All I can say is that I can't wait to see what she does to the Easter Bunny. If the Baby Jesus isn't safe, then who is?