Pet post number 45677686748

I’m sorry in advance about three dog posts in a row. Actually, I’m not.  I mostly skip over posts about children and pregnancies.  There are a few exceptions: this one (because I really like her), this one (because she is my sister and friend), this one (because she is hysterical), and this one (also hysterical). I mean no offense if you are a pregnancy or mommy blogger, but I have to keep a positive outlook over here and reading about the one thing that I can’t have seems kind of creepy and doesn’t really help my efforts to not become one of those obsessive/sad/bitter women who’s blogs definitely scare me and make me thankful that my life doesn’t revolve around getting pregnant. Don’t know what I’m talking about?  Look up infertility blogs if you dare.

So I won’t be sad if you don’t want to read about my pets.  Just don’t leave forever, okay? I’m probably WAY over thinking this.

Anyway, since losing his manhood, Hogan has pretty much been confined to his crate for six days now, per the vet.  He also hasn’t been allowed outside without a leash, also per the vet.

This means that he has to do his “business” on a leash.  This is Jason’s job. By default, all gross things in our house fall on Jason.  Mystery leftovers in the fridge? Jason disposes of them and cleans the container. Dog throw up?  Jason.  Bugs?  Jason. Clogged drains, toilets, or pipes?  All Jason.

Last night while we were lying in bed, he informed me that Hogan actually grunts while he goes number two.  This caused me to go into a fit of laughter that lasted way longer than it should have.

Think what you will about pit bulls, but Hogan is the best. He’s got personality.

The joker and the pot bellied pig

On Monday evening, I went to Abuelos to to support my friend who is training to be a Mary Kay consultant.  They have classes in a private room every Monday, and this particular Monday, the trainees were asked to invite friends to practice the skin care product sales pitch on.  Friends who would not judge.

I have to admit that my skin felt tres fabulous afterwards.  I wanted me some Mary Kay.  For a moment.

During the color portion of the evening we were given a card with a palette of eye shadows, blush and lipstick.  We were instructed to put it on in order to help us win a prize.  My pallet was “red”.

Now I’m not one to wear red on my lips, but there was a prize at stake, and I wanted it.  As I applied the very bright reddish lip color, I started to panic. “This is not my color,” I heard myself say out loud.

One of the The Directors of Mary Kay, totally disagreed (along with all of the trainees, of course) that the red contrasted beautifully with my hair color and complexion. She insisted that I just wasn’t used to it.  So I accepted this as truth and went home, where my husband commented that I looked like the Joker as soon as I entered the door.  He may have also (jokingly, I promise) mentioned that I could pass for a cheap hooker.

Not to be deterred by his comments, this morning I was feeling a little sassy and decided to give red lips another shot.

And then I felt very self conscious. Especially in my pencil skirt and heels in the parking lot of the Staples, with a 69-pound pit bull on the end of my leash, as I struggled not to turn my ankle because he forgot all of his manners at home. You see Hogan lost his manhood today.  Poor guy.  He had no clue the fate that awaited him when he happily scampered up the steps of the SPCA mobile chopping unit this morning.

Anyway, I was wishing that my red lips weren’t so bold as that little pot bellied pig tried with all of his (very substantial) might to release himself from the confines of his harness to go and play.  Doesn’t he realize that I bragged and defended his good manners on my blog last week?  In any case, he left his mom feeling like a fool and hoping that my red lips weren’t serving to make the whole thing appear even more ridiculous.

I think I’ll wait awhile before I try to bring out my inner Shakira again.

Almost clean real pumpkin pie with cinnamon graham cracker crust

Here’s a pretty simple and yummy recipe for real pumpkin pie that I found somewhere on the Internet and made a couple of weekends ago. I wouldn’t really consider this recipe clean or lean, but it was much better than most other recipes I found.  Especially the ones where the crust called for lard. Gross.  So I decided to stick with the processed graham crackers on the crust on this one and feel much better knowing that the only thing clogging my arteries is the whipped cream.

My husband loved it, so I decided to make it for Thanksgiving, which will be at our house for the very first time this year. Please pray that I don’t burn the bird, or serve it rare. Thank you.

Crust:

You’ll need: 1 1/2 cups of ground graham cracker crumbs, 1/3 cup of sugar, 6 tbsp butter (eek!), melted, 1/2 tsp ground cinnamin

Mix all ingredients in a bowl and then press into a pie plate and bake at 375 for 7 min.  Cool for a hour.

For the pie:

You’ll need: 1 tbsp oil or cooking spray, 1 tsp ginger, 1 tsp of cinnamon (I used a bit more), 1 tsp salt, 4 eggs lightly beaten, 1 cup of honey (warmed slightly),1/2 cup of milk, 1/2 cup of whipping cream (eek!)

Note: you can probably use a little bit less honey.  It was *almost* too sweet.

1. Get a sugar, or “pie” pumpkin (small than the ones that you’d use for carving)

2. Preheat oven to 350. Cut pumpkin in half, and clean out the seeds.  Spray a baking pan with cooking spray and place pumpkins cut-side down

3. Bake for about 45 minutes- 50 min, or until the flesh is soft.

4. Let it get cool enough to touch and then carve out the flesh, place into a blender and puree (I set my blender on the “baby food” setting).

5. In a large bowl, combine 2 cups of pumpkin puree, ginger, cinnamon, and salt.

6. Beat in eggs, honey, milk and cream.

Pour into the shell and bake at 400 for 45-55 min, depending on your stove (should be just brown on the top).

Optional: I had bought one of the small cartons of whipping cream, so in a separate bowl, I dumped what was left, added some sugar (to taste) and vanilla and mixed until I had a nice, fattening batch of whipped cream.

If you have extra pumpkin puree left like I did, just freeze up and maybe use it for some pumpkin pancakes in the morning (recipe to come).

Discrimination

As we were heading home from our walk the other day, a little boy who looked to be about four was walking outside with his mama and pointing over at us excitedly.  They eagerly walked toward us, until apparently the mom identified Hogan’s breed and immediately grabbed her little boy and practically started running the other direction.

Dearest Lady,

You were so scared of him that you couldn’t even pass us on the road? I don’t care if you don’t want to let your kid pet him, but did you really have to act like I had a 400 pound tiger on the end of my leash?

Here’s the thing: I would totally walk away from any dog not on a leash because, hi, I’m not exactly The Dog Whisperer, and I don’t want to get bitten either. But my dog was on a HALTER LEASH, which means that it wraps around his fat little belly and his big wide chest. I had complete control over him. He wasn’t pulling out in front of me like some slobbery deranged maniac, but instead, was walking calmly BESIDE me. We’ve trained him to walk like a nice boy since he was just couple of months old.  He also loves people.  His whole butt shakes when he gets attention from someone and he snorts like a pot bellied pig since his snout is so short.  It’s quite hysterical, but you didn’t get a chance to see that because you were too busy being a scared-y cat.  Didn’t you notice that he wasn’t growling or barking at you, or really even paying you any mind? What about when I was trying to be nice and understanding and called out and told you that he is really friendly? You IGNORED me!

In short, Hogan is not aggressive. Also, we are good pet owners.  We don’t leave him tied to a chain outside. We walk him every day. And NOT because I don’t trust my dogs or am nervous of their breeds, but because they are ANIMALS, I never leave them unsupervised around children. Never. Kids pinch, grab ears and tails, poke eyes, and most importantly don’t have the ability to tell if the dog is getting uncomfortable. And dogs? They don’t have the ability to reason.  I wouldn’t leave any dog alone with a child. Not a Lab, Basset Hound, Chihuahua, or a Pit Bull.

There are dog bites every day.  Pit bulls normally make it to the news, because when they bite it causes more hysteria. I do realize that a pit bull bite is going to leave more damage than a Chihuahua bite, but you really didn’t have to worry about that with Hogan. I wish you could use a little common sense and realize that not every pit bull is a vicious beast ready to snap at any moment.  And maybe if we’re out again and you see that my dog is under control, you could walk on the SAME STREET as us, M’kay?

Thank you,

Ryan

Dear Hogan,

Sorry that lady was hating on you so much. We didn’t want to walk on the same street as her anyway.

Love,

Mom

Must hold tongue. Instead, lets talk about food.

I just returned from a work related trip, and oh, how I wish I could dish some really humorous things that happened. Things that literally made me laugh so hard that I cried, and some that just left me with my mouth hanging wide open with disbelief. This is another moment when I wish this blog were anonymous.  Because then you could laugh really hard too.  And I know you would.

Anyway, instead of all reading some real entertainment, you will get a lovely post on what I ate, because woah.

Day 1:

I have to also add that my coworker and I splurged on some Kilwin’s ice cream after dinner while we looked at some sweet little boutiques.  I couldn’t find the calorie count on that, but I’m sure it was at least 600.  I normally try to stay close to 1200 when I’m not exercising hard, and 1400 when I am.  As you can see, my calories for this day surpassed my range, and then some.  That’s what happens when you assume that an eggplant sandwich is healthy, just because it contains grilled eggplant.

Here’s day two:

The salad dressing (it was a company lunch, and I had no choice other than dry, and dry salad is gross even for me) was terrible.  It tasted good, but so not worth having an extra roll on my belly.

Last night Jason had pizza and wine waiting on me when I arrived home at around 9 pm. Love him. It felt so good to come home.

However, my two days of eating lots of junk made me feel sluggish and icky, so it’s been great today to get back to normal. Time to burn some fat!

The weekend in pictures

 

I made pumpkin pie (with real pumpkins)

Topped with whipped cream, also homemade

Watched the Gators totally crush the Georgia Bulldogs. (That's my game face, and yes, my lips are chapped from having the flu last week. This is also a terribly unflattering shot of us, but, eh.)

Made a Jacko. (Clearly Hogan loved getting right up in the action)

Jack

And passed out candy. This is the only time you'll see candy in our house...

First steps

Last night we went to an informational session on foster parenting/adopting from the state.  It looks like we’ll start our ten weeks of training in April and finish up in June.  We are excited to have finally started on this journey.

There are an earlier set of classes that we could take starting in January, but starting in April will allow Jason to see through the commitment that he made to the basketball team and give us time to pray about this together. It will also allow us several more months to mentor our neighbor, who we’re growing a pretty great relationship with.

I’m learning patience in my desires, and experiencing God’s tenderness with my heart through all of it.  His compassion frequently leaves me with out words.

Each time I honestly pour the contents of my discontented heart out to him, wondering if my ungratefulness has finally caused him to reach his capacity of love for me, he shows up.  He reminds me there is no capacity for his love for me.  That he knew and loved me before I was born– before I loved him, and even when I denied him. That I’m so valuable to him, and that he still has a purpose for me…for us. He reminds me that it’s all about him.

It truly is.

No pain no gain?

As part of Operation Stay at Home Wife, I thought that I would save some dollars and get my hair color done on the cheap this time around.  You know, show my hubby that I can make sacrifices. It’s not like I bleach it blond, and I figured it’s pretty hard to mess up dark brown.

My friend recently had her hair colored at Fantastic Sam’s, and it turned out great.  It also only cost her 35 dollars. So I went ahead and scheduled an appointment for color only.  Then I scheduled an appointment at a different place for the cut, because, well, I just didn’t trust Fantastic Sam’s that much.

As I sat down in the chair for my appointment, I quickly realized that this was going to be a long hour.  The man coloring my hair immediately started talking to me about Jesus.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love Jesus too. A lot. I just didn’t really want to hear a mini-sermon/lecture about the importance of listening to the holy spirit while my hair color was being applied from some guy that I don’t even know.  Next, he asked me about my job, which is in the advertising industry. Sometimes I really hate telling  people which industry I work in, because they automatically assume that I’m a marketing genius (I am not) and inevitably will try to convince me to do sales or marketing for their side business.  This time was no different.  This man was convinced that God sent me to his seat for a reason, possibly so that I can market his son’s band, and of course, they are about to make it big.  He proceeded to ask me, interview style, about my previous work experience, and whether I’ll be able to travel.  I’m not even kidding.

Finally, as I tried to graciously tell him that I’m actually not interested in leaving my current position at this time, he finishes applying the color and puts a cap on my head to activate the color.  Approximately one minute later, my entire scalp started to BURN.  I’ve been having my hair colored since my senior year in high school, and my scalp has never burned like this. A slight tingle?  Sure. But never like this.  I successfully ignored the pain for about 30 minutes, but when it started feeling like the elastic from my cap was burning into my forehead, I just had to say something.

He came over and told me that I had about 10 minutes left, and he removed the cap to let some air in and hopefully cool my hot scalp down.

Then he started picking through my hair it with this:

Ever tried to pick through incredibly thick, wet-with-dye-in-it, long hair with a cheap plastic brush like the one above? I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy. I felt like I was being tortured.

I was holding back tears as he finally lead me to rinse the initial source of my pain out.  I silently thanked God that this would all be over soon.

So he, who does not have small hands, began rinsing my hair and running his fingers through it, from root to end.  You do not, under any circumstances, run.your.fingers.through.thick.wet.hair, unless there is conditioner in it.  He also kept spraying me in the face with water.

I do not typically have a sensitive scalp.  But with the burning, and the picking, and the finger running, I just couldn’t take it any more.  ”You’re really hurting me,” I managed to choke out.

“What?” he asked, clearly confused.

“When you run your fingers through my hair, it really hurts,” I repeated.

The rest of the appointment was awkward.  He finished rinsing, and then submitted my scalp to even more torture by raking through my hair with that same horrible brush, as I again choked back tears.

I told him that I didn’t need for him to dry it, and then he asked if I would like for him to cut it.  I felt like asking him if he was crazy, but instead politely told him no.

As we came to payment time, he charged me 65 dollars for my hour of torture, which is a far cry from the 35 dollars that they charged my friend. When I got in the car, I definitely had red burn marks, and also dark brown dye STAINED AROUND MY HAIRLINE. How embarrassing.

I went home and shed a few tears on my husbands shoulder, naturally, after enduring the most painful hair experience of my life.  He gave me a big hug, and said that he felt like punching that man who hurt my scalp and lectured me about the Holy Spirit (awe- gotta love a man who wants to physically hurt someone just because they made me cry), and told me that he appreciated me trying to save money, but clearly it didn’t work I don’t need to do that in this particular area.

All in all, the day ended well.  The hair color came out fine, and later that afternoon I went and got my hair cut from someone that I trusted.  I did go with the Reese bangs, and they came out terrific.

I ended up spending 95 dollars with the cut plus color, which is 30 dollars more than I would have spent if I hadn’t tried to be cheap.

Lesson learned.

My Own Series of Interesting Events

Can we talk about last Thursday please?  Great, thanks.  Just two days after I sympathetically commented on this post, the following events happened to me:

My coworker and I needed to switch vehicles for the evening for work related reasons. Unfortunately, since this blog is not anonymous, I will not be able to discuss at the GREAT length that I desire, why we had to switch cars.  Moving on.

On Thursday nights, I host a women’s Bible study at my house, and on this particular Thursday it was extra special since we were also celebrating the birthday of one of my sweetest friends.  I get out of work at 5:30 and the study typically starts at 6:30.

So after a pretty crazy work day, I leave work in my coworkers very nice car and realize that because we switched key chains, instead of just keys, I had no way to let myself into my home. After calling my coworker and letting her know that I was pretty sure that I had her house key too (I did), I frantically dialed up Jason to ask if I could come to his basketball practice to get a key.

In route to get the key, I decided that in order for me to successfully put the events of the day behind me, I should crank up the music and sing. Unfortunately, I got so music-happy that I forgot to stop to get the key. Gah. I was less than a minute from home, so you can understand that I was less than excited about this. So I tuuuurned around, and as I turned, the gas light came on.

I guess this is a good time to mention that I also gave my coworker (we’re also friends) my debit card, since I knew that my car was running a bit low on gas.

Someone elses car+No Keys+No Gas+No means of paying for gas+friends arriving at my house in less than 30 minutes=a little bit of stress.

When I finally arrived to meet Jason for the key, and mentioned that I also kind of-sort of needed his debit card, I was near tears. Thankfully he laughed, which made things feel a bit more comical and a bit less irritating.

When I arrived to get gas, I pulled up to the wrong side of the pump.

As I got into the car, I realized that with all of the drama during the day, I forgot a card for the gift that I got my friend.  So I swung into the grocery, and all was well until I arrived at the register to discover that I left my husband’s debit card in the car.

At this point the sweet bag boy asked how I was doing, and I proceeded to tell him that I thought my head might actually pop off at any moment.  Thankfully, I see the grocery store people several times per week, so hopefully he didn’t think I was too crazy.

Seriously. Not that any of these events are horrible or anything, but really?  All in the matter of an hour?

The whole thing was quickly forgotten two minutes (phew!) after I arrived home, and I spent some fun time with great company.

Bangs?

Am I the only person who has ever gone for MONTHS without a trim?  It’s not pretty, but with all of the home improvement projects lately, I’ve figured that since my hair has interior paint streaked in it half the time, who cares, right?  I can’t take it anymore though and the time has come for the hair cut to be cut and colored.

The last time I had it cut, I opted for the trendy bangs, and it was cute.  But now the bangs are grown out, and the question becomes whether to cut em in again?  Or is this style on it’s way out?

I ‘m really fond of this look on Reese:

However. I’m trying a new stylist this time, and that ’s a lot of power to give to her. I don’t want to look like this at the end of my session:

Or this:

What would you do?