Us

We usually do a family photo shoot every second Autumn.

Here are some of this year's results.





Here's the "Did we just get caught making out?" shot:



Here the guys are climbing on stuff...again:



This one was taken whilst Tobias was making a smart remark. (Check out the acerbic curve of his ever-lippy mouth.):



And here we are reacting to his snidery:



Although I doubt we'll ever be able to outdo our zombie shot of two years ago (scroll down to the bottom of the linked post to see it), we did pose "Romanian" style. You see, Romanians don't smile for photographs. Yes, I'm serious.



Very serious.   

I must say that the severity of Jeff's face is a bit over the top. The rest of us look simply modern-day-Romanian whereas Jeff looks positively communistic.

We also took a number of other shots which I shan't be sharing online. If you really want to see those photographic evidences of our boorishness, feel free to ask next time you come over to our house, but I wouldn't dare post them since they're perfect fodder for websites such as awkwardfamilyphotos.com . (If you've never been there, check it out. It's kind of like PeopleOfWalmart.com, but with more of a homey, warm, how-in-the-world-did-I-end-up-in-this-family sort of a feel.)

One includes me grossly amused by something. Apparently, when I'm  moved to hilarity, my throat has to swell to twice its normal size in order to allow passage to my hearty guffaws. It's not pretty. In fact, it makes me want to never laugh in public again.

Another one was the result of our fabulous photog, Veronica, continuously telling Jeff that he needed to actually smile instead of look constipated. Thus, we decided to actually take a shot wherein we all exhibited our best my-gut-is-presently-granite look. Again, not pretty.

In a couple of pics, the width of my hips is especially appalling, so those are no-shows, obviously.

Halfway through the shoot, Jeff caught sight of a couple of trashcans and had an epiphany. Thus was born the final photo which I will not launch into cyberspace. It involves Delaney and I standing beside the guys who are both thigh-high in their very own metal trash can.

After us ladies moved out of the way there commenced, of course, a game of bumper trashcans, the evidence of which I will post:

Yay!!!!!!

Guess who has a home!!!

THIS guy ----->


(I love his floppy lips. :) Oh, and look at how dinky my hand looks on his neck. He is truly an awesome creature.)









Last week, we learned that Moses had just had his troublesome bits removed in preparation for his departure from the shelter. We could tell he didn't feel quite right. He just sort of stood next to us in his kennel, leaning his boulder-sized head against us. That's what having parts removed will do to you for a day or two. So, he won't be siring any little Leviathans or teensy Goliaths in the future, but...


...Moses has a family! Woo hoo!

(I hope they have a big shovel.)


*deep sigh of contentment*

My Little Pony

Okay, so it's not my little pony...

...but it could be yours!

That's right, this huge hunk of equine beauty is available for adoption.

What's that, you say? It's a dog? Oh, I see that you are right...sort of.

Meet Moses:

Isn't he gorgeous?

He has a very sweet disposition and the entire time we were with him, he didn't try to eat us once!

Is it his name that keeps you from wanting him? You can always change it.

If you'd like, you can rename him "Seabiscuit":



 Or you can call him "Fezzik":

Even "AT-AT" will suffice:

I won't guilt you too much though, because I'm certainly not volunteering my backyard for his minefield. I heart Moses, but alas...he is too much dog for a 5'4" girl like me.

Don't think you can handle him either?

How about this sweet girl with whom Delaney is cuddling?

She has the softest fur and such pretty eyes.

Or how about this little dumpling?

I was near her for quite a while and she didn't yip once. Honestly.

For the last couple of months, Delaney and I have been volunteering at the local animal shelter. While there, we go into the kennels and pet the dogs, just trying to show them some affection. Then, the better behaved ones, we take for short walks around the grounds. We leave reeking of dog and checking our shoes for poo, but somehow happy, too.
 
Like much of life, it's a very bittersweet experience. There are so many homeless dogs.

It's difficult. Some days we leave without having walked all the pups we wanted to walk, but I have to keep reminding myself that it's better to do some good than no good.

Better some than none...better some than none...

A bit of news cheered us last Thursday. Several of the dogs we've come to know have been adopted in the last two weeks.

In fact, we walked this very gentle girl...


...and shortly after we returned her to her kennel, she was taken out and put in the back of a van to go to her new home! This was especially sweet news because when we had taken her to the play yard, all she wanted was to be petted. Some dogs run around investigating, but she planted herself right next to us and nudged our hands with her nose if we stopped. Now she has someone to rub behind her ears daily. :)


















Another dog, Buddy, was adopted a couple of weeks ago. (I wondered if he'd ever make it out of the shelter since he was less attractive than many of the dogs there.) Well, the director informed us that he now has a home for life because shortly after arriving at his new home, he encountered an intruder who was trying to enter the house through the bathroom window. The valiant Buddy bit the guy.

Go, Buddy!

So there are happy stories, but I'm especially concerned for Moses. I mean, look at him!



Most people who mosey down to the shelter to pick out a dog are going to think like me and realize that he's just a bit more dog than they're willing to sign up for.

Hey Christy--How does Macy feel about fellows who are tall, dark and handsome? (Just kidding! Please still be my friend.)

Delaney and I took pity on the poor dear and did dare to take him out on a walk. The leash we attached was merely a token of what activity we were attempting since it did us no good. A slight lurch forward almost resulted in a trip to the ER to fix my face. A guy who works there saw me, resisted the urge to laugh out loud and  proceeded to show us how to complete the job without injury. In order to do so we had to flank him and grab his collar. Sadly, we have no photographic record of this feat since all of our hands were a bit preoccupied.

The next day, we took Jeff to see Moses.

Jeff was actually capable of walking him without help and without grasping his collar.

Go, Jeff!

Since Bruiser's passing we have enjoyed the benefits of having only one dog to tend to, but some of us are thinking along the lines of getting Duncan a companion. Probably at some point in the near future, some especially precious pup will worm its way into our hearts, keeping us awake at night with memories of its pleading eyes.

Stay tuned...

White Girls Can't Stir-Fry

I LOVE good Asian food.

I'm not talking about the kind that is served at a place like this:



(I don't want to bite into an egg roll and see bavarian cream ooze out, nor do I want rainbow sprinkles floating in my wonton soup.)






  I'm also not speaking of truly authentic Asian food such as these "1000 year old" eggs:










Nor this plate of duck tongue:










No thanks. Just give me a bowl of rice or noodles with some nicely seasoned meat and a fresh veggie or two.

Not being able to afford to eat out at PF Chang's and Pei Wei's several times a week, I have experimented a bit with various recipes with very little good fortune.

Available at local markets are ingredients necessary for Asian delights like these noodles:




Unfortunately, there are no instructions as to how to cook them.

Or if there are, I can't read them.








 I think that bottom line in Vietnamese says, "Ha ha ha, just go to the restaurant already!"

I've purchased and prepared many different types of Asian noodles over the years and they just don't turn out right. Some batches have been okay and others have been downright nasty.

I've found there's one product I can always count on:


Now these are instructions I can read:

Actually, I haven't read them in years, but if I ever forget how to boil noodles for three minutes and then drain them, I'll know exactly where to look.

Yes, I realize that these things are virtually void of nutrition, but so is a big bowl of white rice that I could serve instead.

Isn't the main nutritional horror about these orange packets actually the little silver packet hidden inside?


That's where all the sodium, mysterious chemicals and most of the fat is contained, right? So if I use only one silver packet for every four packets of noodles then I'm not technically poisoning my family, right?



AND...if I pile a bunch of lean meat and fresh vegetables on top...

 ...then I'm kinda, sorta nourishing my loved ones, right?

Right?!?!

Yes, I realize that I began this post with the words, "I LOVE good Asian food" and I'm ending it with a confession about how I dish out ramen to the innocents in my care.

Feeling better about yourself yet?

Abrasive Advertisements

As I was jogging through the neighborhood this morning, I kept seeing these slats of wood blighting people's driveways. Upon closer examination, I saw that they were, in fact, advertisements for a company selling shutters, blinds and shades.


Apparently, some guy was in his workshop, staring at the heap of refuse that he was about to throw in the dumpster out back when a revelation hit.

"I know!!! I'm gonna paste my phone number onto all these useless scraps and litter the neighborhood!"

Great idea, fella.

Some other genius (of a tree-trimming sort) canvases my street a couple of times a year with little baggies full of pebbles and a business card.

Honestly, do these people think that as we're leaning over, cleaning up our previously tidy front yards, we're thinking, "Oh, I'll be sure to give these guys a call." ???

Here's an idea: Keep your window treatment waste and ziplock o' rocks to yourselves.

Don't you understand that if you want to increase your patronage, you shouldn't start by annoying potential customers? I haven't got an M.B.A., but that makes sense to me.

Who among us hasn't started our car and begun to exit a parking lot before noticing a flyer stuffed under our wiper blade?


You know that you're the one who'll get a ticket for littering if it flies off, so you have to stop your car, put on the e-brake, take off your seat belt and retrieve the stupid thing.

Which of us hasn't stumbled to our front door, arms overflowing with grocery bags, mail and a set of keys only to be greeted by one of these, dangling from our doorknob:


Now, in our complete vexation, we have to figure out how to detach it while unlocking our door and not dropping the watermelon we are precariously balancing between our shoulder and chin.

It's spilling out of our mailboxes, too. I can't count how many envelopes I get each week from Citibank and Chase, pathetically begging me to get one of their credit cards. One day, we literally received four solicitations from Chase Bank alone. (Go chase someone else, would you?) I've never stepped inside a bank run by either of these institutions and every unwanted envelope that emerges from my mailbox with their name on it convinces me further that I never will.

Probably the latest development in pestering commercialism is taking place on the Internet. Sometimes I'll be minding my own business lulled into a photon-induced stupor, staring at the screen when it's suddenly commandeered by some unknown evil force. The news article I was just reading is completely obscured by an ad for a mobile phone company. I guess they figure that since I waste so much time on the Net that I won't mind if they waste some for me.

Wrong!

Traditional TV commercials are a bit of a novelty to my family since at home we watch shows exclusively on the Internet or through Netflix. Therefore, when we are in a motel, we actually do watch the commercials, familiarizing ourselves with some present day Americana.

(The following isn't so much irritating advertising as it is just plain weird.) On a recent trip, we saw an advertisement for a hybrid car. The ad was progressive in nature so throughout the TV show's commercial breaks we saw the evolution of the car owner's experience. You see, he stopped at a gas station to use the restroom, but multiple people proceeded to badger him over his car. It culminated with the gas station attendant informing him that he could not use the toilet unless he purchased some gas.

Hmmm...Did the ad execs think we were going to watch that and say, "So if I buy this car, then I'll experience harrassment and wet underpants? I'll take two!"

Whatever...

Here's my advice to businesses: If you want a loyal clientele, then offer good products at good prices and LEAVE US ALONE!

Now, Now, Don't Panic

Jeff and I took a little field trip to the ER on Monday.

For the past couple of weeks he has had a sense of pressure on his chest, as if it was being sat on by one of these:

Well, by Monday, he was feeling as if he was being sat upon by someone more like this:

Therefore, he was finally willing to call our doctor. (WHY are men so obstinate when it comes to seeing the doctor???) Jeff was told to go directly to the emergency room.

He checked in at the front desk and was called back right away. (I've always heard that if you want fast service at the ER that you ought to complain of chest pain. Well, them liars were right.)

Within the first 15 minutes of being there, Jeff had been x-rayed, EKGed, had his blood drawn for a battery of tests and was tethered to a bed by multiple apparati. He had a pulse reader on his right ring finger, his left arm was encircled by a blood pressure cuff (which inflated occasionally, seemingly at its own whim), multiple electrode leads were stuck to his chest and an oxygen tube was simultaneously wrapped around his head and stuck up his nose. (That last one was his favorite.)

Oh, and of course let's not forget the fashionable hospital gown. When he decided to go use the restroom, (no, he wasn't catheterized) we undid all of his medical bindings and I tried to tie up the back of his gown. Unfortunately, it was missing a tie on one side. :)

This was the most disclosing photograph he'd allow me to take:


Not that I blame him, really.

Within a few hours, the doctor came to tell us that all of the tests had come back normal and that the pain might be due to a viral infection. So we removed his fetters one last time and left.

Jeff took another day off of work today and is feeling much better this evening.

However, he was so put off by the entire rigmarole (you know, the whole process they put him through in order to determine if they should intervene to keep him from dying or not) that he has resolved not to say anything next time he feels a heaviness on his chest, even if he feels like this poor fellow in orange:








Ughhhh! Men...

The View from Here

I've seen a lot of this lately:

Our family will exit our car and as we're walking into wherever it is that we're going, my husband will grab my daughter's hand with Tobias and I trailing behind.

(No, I don't grasp onto Tobias's hand so that we, too, can walk in a similar manner. That would be very weird, even if he would allow it.)

So there I am, walking behind my man who is holding the hand of a younger and thinner version of myself.

Am I okay with that?

Absolutely.

I cherish them both so much and am overjoyed to witness their genuine adoration of each other.

Someday, I'll have my place back, walking hand in hand with my husband, but for now I gladly make room for my daughter. (Don't any of you other ladies get any ideas, though. ;) )

At thirteen, Delaney is only benefited by the attention of a caring, protective man who has no ulterior motives. His treatment of her is teaching her what she should expect from any man who desires her attention: respect, attentiveness, gentleness, appreciation.

I want her to compare what she has with her dad to what she has with every prince or jester who comes along and send the foolios packing.


Oh God, may she be ruined for any lesser loves.

The Volturi are After Me!

Well, they might be after this post.

Loving the idea of e-readers and how they are a complete library in the palm of one's hand, I recently checked a Kindle out at the library and happily brought it home.


While scrolling through the 45 + books stored in the nifty little device, I noticed that the Twilight Saga was included.

"Hmmm," I thought, selecting it. "Let's see what this teen literature phenomenon is all about."

I realize I am way late catching this train, but I've never been first in line for anything considered "cool" 'cause frankly, when it comes to trends...

I. Just. Don't. Care.

Up until this point, I've kept very quiet about the whole controversy of Twilight. Having looked like a complete idiot on more than one horrific occasion, I've learned to keep my mouth shut if I don't know anything about a topic.

(Side note: Hey Christians, I believe our demographic would have more credibility with the general populace if we educated ourselves about issues before we busted out our very strong opinions. Just a thought...)

But now, having finished Book 3 last night, I can tap out my take on the saga (or the first three books anyway).

The pros:

1. The vast majority of the story takes place in one of my favorite places on God's lusciously green and gorgeous earth...the Olympic Peninsula!

2. The plot was, in fact, interesting enough to keep me turning pages.

The cons:

1. Although there were some rather clever ideas, there were also some really cheesy ones like the whole skin-sparkling-in-the-sun-thing and how Jacob kept a pair of shorts handy. (I realize that the author had to explain somehow that he wasn't naked when he morphed back into human form from werewolf form, but are we expected to believe that a wolf is capable of bungee cording a pair of shorts onto his hind leg? It would have made more sense to dress the werewolf/boys in ultra stretchy shorts that would stay in place no matter what form their wearer was in. However, a pack of Spanx-clad wolves might not prove to be very intimidating. Hold on...am I actually thinking through what would be the most realistic clothing option for a werewolf? Let's move on, shall we?)

2. The sappy romance factor was way over the top. How many times can Edward's smouldering eyes bore into Bella's without the poor girl needing a double corneal transplant?

3. My biggest problem with the saga is how it could make young girls think about male/female relationships.

(To me, the fact that it involves vampires isn't particularly offensive. I mean, vampires are imaginary creatures on the level of the witch who wanted to eat Hansel and Gretel...



and Klingons...


In fact, the most vampiric thing that reality has to offer are guys like this:


Hmmm...feeling tempted to give up your humanity? Yeah, me neither.)

For example, when Bella finds out that Edward has been sneaking into her room at night to watch her sleep, her main reaction is embarrassment over what she may have said while talking in her sleep.

HELLO!

Homeboy's been sneaking into your room at night!!! How creepy and wrong is that??? It makes some voyeur hiding in the front yard's shrubbery with a pair of binoculars seem almost cute in comparison.

In chapter 20 of Book 3, Bella literally begs Edward to have sex with her. It's difficult for him, but he refuses. How grounded in reality is that?

Seriously!?!?

What's the likely outcome if a 15 year old Twi-hard tries that one on her boyfriend? A very few young men might pull a Joseph (Genesis 39:12) but what about the other 99.98%?

You might argue that Edward, although appearing as a 17 year old, is actually 108 and therefore annealed to his own desires by his maturity and life experience.

Ummm...let's take a cruise over to the nearest convalescent hospital. See Clarence over there in the corner? I think it's quite likely that (assuming his hearing aid is on) when Ethel starts pleading for physical satisfaction that he's going to make quite an effort to comply, 108 or not.

Possibly the most disturbing thing to me is how Bella entrusts her safety to this guy who admits that his strongest instincts are urging him to suck the life blood right out of her. He tells her regularly that he fears he's going to end up possibly killing her. Yet, because of her great love for him and his confessed adoration of her, she consistently sneaks off alone with him.

Sure, there aren't actually boys who want to drink the blood of our daughters (not many anyway) but the real boys surrounding them do have some other incredibly strong drives which can seriously damage girls' minds and bodies. (No, I'm not a misandrist, but I know enough males to know that even the good ones have to daily fight an arduous battle to keep their urges in check.) If girls apply Bella's reasoning to their own situation ("But he loves me!") they might be signing up for a whole truckload of sorrows.

Personally, I'm very glad that my daughter scoffs at this series and has no interest in reading it. In fact, she's probably going to be mortified if she finds out that I'm reading it.

There are a few other points I could harp on, but I think I've enraged both Teams Edward and Jacob enough for one day. Hopefully they'll be as gracious to me as Edward was when he found out that Bella made out with Jacob.

:)