Longmont is big on dogs. On our runs Ollie and I are often greeted by other dogs confined to fenced yards. By greeted I mean snarled, barked and growled at. It happens so often that it really takes an extraordinary dog to catch my attention.The dog we saw yesterday was indeed extraordinary, to say the very least. This Yorkie ran back and forth behind a two foot fence, barking and jumping. He jumped so high that his hind legs reached above the fence. The two foot fence. He's a Yorkie, one of the smallest of small dogs. If he had any forward momentum he would clear the fence with no problem. Instead he jumps straight up, limbs sprawled, yelping all the way up and down. Too hard to visualize? Don't worry, I made you this picture:
Speaking of amazing, are you reading our TV blog? We have some amazing writers, and are always looking for more. If you're interested let me know.
Miss Ivy Lou works tirelessly to find anything that runs on electricity or is covered in dog slobber. We spend a good part of our days preventing her from putting these things in her mouth.
She growls whenever we growl at her and at Ollie all the time. She squeals with delight when she sees someone she knows, yells at the tv and laughs at herself after sneezing.
Ivy loves grapes, shredded chicken and rice. She's not such a fan of enchilada sauce or choocolate ice cream
She finally fits into six month size clothing and will keep shoes on her feet for more than three seconds.
The other day she crawled out of my lap and Stephen said, "You know that's a metaphor for our future, right?"Every day she becomes more of her own person, roaming all over the apartment, entertaining herself, laughing at who knows what, becoming decreasingly dependent on me. For all her new independence, I forget that she's still just a little baby. But yesterday she was playing in the living room while I was working on a project. Everything seemed fine until Ivy suddenly screamed. Not a tired whine or a hungry scowl, but a terrified scream. I ran and picked her up. She burried her face in my shoulder and sniffled, letting me hold her without resistance like she was just weeks old again. I don't know what happened and I hope whatever it was never hurts her again, but I was thankful for the five minute reminder that my baby still needs her mom.
Larry is roughly fifty years old. He walked into the DMV wearing black jeans and a black Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt and was with his elderly parents. He saw the line, rolled his eyes, then turned to his elderly parents and said, "Do we have to do this today?" His white-haired parents gave no response and sat by the rest of us waiting for our number to be called. Larry slowly followed and muttered "This freaking government" but he didn't say freaking. He spent the next fifteen minutes spewing profanity to his parents' very visible annoyance. It was after his seventh round of "freaking government" that his mother turned to him and said, "Damnit, Larry, stop it. Don't borrow trouble." Larry grunted a few times but quit the anarchist rant and seemed to indeed stop borrowing trouble.
I think we could all do well to heed the wisdom of Larry's mom. Most often things are never so terrible. The DMV line moves faster than anticipated. The government isn't out to ruin our lives. The Red Hot Chili Peppers play on.
I'm trying to be one of those goal-setting/goal-accomplishing kind of people. I set two goals for Fall: 1. Train for and run a half marathon, and 2. Learn Spanish. Because I'm a super efficient human being, I decided to do them SIMULTANEOUSLY, that is, listen to my Spanish language tutorials while running. This lasted three days. Running is hard. Learning is hard. Learning while running is terribly hard. Plus, to better absorb el espanol, it's best to repeat the phrases aloud. That made me the crazy lady muttering Spanish under her strained jogging breath running around Longmont. Longmont already has a few crazies and I didn't want to bump our fair city into "several crazies" territory. So it's for the good of my community that I decided to stick to one goal at a time. Solo uno goalo ahora, si? Si.
It's amazing that I'm 26 and I still don't really know how to take care of myself.
It was 2:00 and I felt death approaching. My head throbbed. My back ached. Then my stomach growled. I realized I needed food. So I ate a six inch sandwich in twelve seconds and it was the world's fastest recovery.
Yesterday I felt death approaching. My head throbbed. My back ached. Then my eye-lids drooped. I realized I needed sleep. I went to bed at a decent hour and woke up to the world's second fastest recovery.
When I start to get fussy Stephen usually asks, "Are you tired? Are you hungry?" So the good news is there is one adult in our household.
Sometimes the internet is a terrible terrible place, like FaceBook before an election.
But sometimes the internet is supes awes sauce.
Bic made a pen especially for the ladies because their standard ball-points have always been far too masculine for our delicate hands, obviously.
Last week Wait Wait Don't Tell Me did a bit on the Amazon reviews for the new Cristal For Her Ball Pen, so I decided they might be worth reading. I was right. You can find them here, and while some of the statements may make my gentleman readers blush, there are some genuine comedic nuggets penned (punny) by these mostly anonymous reviewers. My favorite:
"Someone has answered my gentle prayers and FINALLY designed a pen that I can use all month long! I use it when I'm swimming, riding a horse, walking on the beach and doing yoga. It's comfortable, leak-proof, non-slip and it makes me feel so feminine and pretty! Since I've begun using these pens, men have found me more attractive and approchable. It has given me soft skin and manageable hair and it has really given me the self-esteem I needed to start a book club and flirt with the bag-boy at my local market. "
" I am a female AP and Multivariable Calculus teacher and I prefer to use ink when solving problems. I guess, not surprisingly, these pens cannot be used to do math problems more complicated than 5th grade level. When trying to find a derivative or definite integral, the ball point simply stopped working. I went back and added some numbers and it was fine. I progressed up to solving quadratic equations and the ball point started to "stick" so that I couldn't solve the problem completely. Imaginary numbers? HA! It was as if I had a pen with imaginary ink! As I moved into problems with Taylor Series, the pen started to get uncomfortably warm. By the time I tried to find the integral of a polar curve the pen burst into flames! I couldn't believe it! Luckily, I had on asbestos gloves by that time so there were no injuries. I couldn't even try it with a Multivariable problem!"
Yesterday I ended a terrible relationship. It wasn't easy, but I know now that I'm better for it.
The cerulean nail polish was on sale for $1.00 and I'm a sucker, so obviously I was all over that. Within an hour of applying the polish it began to chip. I should have removed it immediately. I knew the chipping situation would only get worse. But I rationalized like we all do. "It's not that bad," I thought. "It's kind of edy," I said, knowing full well that my fingers looked like they were dipped in Smurf puke. I ignored the problem for weeks, hoping it would work itself out. Maybe enough hand washing and showers would simply make it go away. Maybe the trend would become chipped, faded, scraggly manicures. No dice. And so, on Sunday, September 9, I finally came to my senses and ended it. I'd had enough and I knew I could do better. But when I pulled out the remover and cotton swabs, suddenly it was "No, don't make me go, I love you , I'll be better..." and would not let go. It took a good ten minutes and half a bottle of the rubbing alcohol to get rid of what was left of our broken life together. But now I'm free, and eyeing a Wet N' Wild hot pink on sale at Target.
Ollie and I are training for a half marathon. Ollie is better at it than I am, probably because he has twice the number of legs. Today is a rest day, and while I was savoring the extra hour of sleep this morning, Ollie sat at the foot of the bed and growled. He looked at my running shoes. Looked at me. Back to the shoes. I don't know where he finds the drive.
Speaking of small animals, turns out having a mobile baby makes life about 147 times more complicated. It's unbelievable how quickly Ivy can scoot from one side of the room to the other. Is she interested in her stuffed animals and teething toys that we've strategically placed around the living room? No. Is she interested in the ethernet cable, blinds and the fireplace? Yes.
Speaking of strategy failure, Stephen taught me how to play chess and we've played every night for over a week now. I have yet to win. Suddenly my skills in Scrabble and Monopoly seem silly. I'm playing with, and losing to, the big boys now.
If you woke up this morning and said to yourself, "I really hope that today Meg blogs about three unrelated topics and feebly attempts to tie them together but ultimately fails," dreams do come true!
Gretchen in Utah asks, Dr. Ivy- Is it okay if babies eat things off the ground?
Dr. Ivy says,
"Is it okay for birds to eat seed? For cows to eat grass? For fish to eat fish food? Yes, yes, yes and yes. We eat what we can where we are, and I am often on the floor. That is not to say that all things on the ground taste good going down. And so I offer Dr. Ivy's Official Food Found on the Floor Review:
Soggy Cheerio: Just as good as dry cheerios without all mouth work! Whether the sogginess was my doing or the dog's is hard to say.
Long dark hair most likely belonging to the apartment's previous tenant: I struggled with this one, mulling it around until ultimately spitting it back out. A bit on the stringy side and no real flavor to report.
Science Diet puppy chow: Delicious!
Exposed wire: Unfortunately I didn't get to taste this one before Old Joy Kill Mom stopped me from putting it in my mouth. It looked really tasty though.