What does a puppy, a wedding and an illiterate person have in common?

Hello my faithful sticks and stoners. I know I've been disappointing you with my lack of updates, but I have just been busier than ever. So for lack of a better subject, let me tell you all about it.

1. I finally got a dog - the most time consuming activity of them all. I wake up at 5:30am every morning to walk Bowser. He goes on about 4-6 walks a day. These take anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour because he is so dang particular about where he does his business. Did I also mention that he gets distracted by absolutely EVERYTHING? But, as you can see, my new pooch is the cutest puppy ever to grace planet earth. I have nothing to complain about. In fact, I have become one of those folks who are obsessed with their dog. But would you have expected anything less? I was blogging about my imaginary dog, so now you can expect blog entries about my real dog. I'm making my co-workers sick with stories like, "Bowser tried digging and hiding his bone in the carpet," and "Bowser took his first poo!" But you do have to cut me some slack --I have a friend who told me someone they knew not only created a facebook page for their dog (don't worry, my Bowser fan page is coming soon), but they also created a blog about their dog. Except the blog was about what their dog would say if it could talk. I'll tell you now that I won't go THAT far. But pretty dang close.

2. Work has been a little insane. In addition to juggling four trillion projects and trying to be everything to everyone, I've also been preoccupied with dumbing down my writing style. Apparently, I write too academically because I use words like "difficult." I was told to change this to "hard" because our employees wouldn't understand. I was having a hard time keeping a straight face. I'll leave you to insert your own comment. I'm just collecting a paycheck. Or for those that don't understand, I'm just collecting money.

3. My half-marathon is right around the corner. In three short weeks, I will be sweating like a pig, probably smelling like a dude (as my boyfriend likes to tell me when I come home from my long runs), huffing and puffing uphill, and wondering why I signed up to run 13.1 miles. But once I cross that finish line, it will be the most gratifying race I will have ever run. Today I ran for 2 hours straight, completing 11 miles. By the way, I need to take a moment to say, I find it horribly rude when you wave to other runners and they don't wave back or say hi. I never did this in Seattle, because everyone runs in Seattle so I would have to wave at everyone. But here in the suburbs, it's just you, the trail, and a passerby (likely, with a stick up their ass, running off the stress caused by their suburban luxury problems. I can just imagine, "My husband picked out the wrong coach purse! Hello?! Doesn't he know that was last season's bag? I'll never be let in the country club! Ugh! Run it off, run it off, so I can fit into those new Seven jeans!"). Whatever.

4. Planning vacations/weddings. Unfortunately, I'm not planning MY wedding, but making arrangements for the 5 that my boyfriend and I are involved in for the rest of the year. California and Hawaii grace the list of wedding vacations we'll be embarking on. Live armadillos and animal print high heels are just some of the items involved with the wedding that I'll be in! We're definitely in for some memorable ceremonies. Now I need to find a dog sitter. Any takers? :)

5. Trying to keep my house livable. I'll admit I'm a bit of a neat freak. Not obsessive, but enough so that I have to keep up on dishes and laundry.This is definitely lacking due to pooch time. Again, any takers?

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but one day I'll find time to squeeze in writing again!

The Easter Bunny Laid a Puppy!

I finally got a dog. We are now the proud owners of a Shiba Inu puppy. And yes, I'm just as crazy about it as I thought I'd be. And surprisingly, so is my boyfriend! He wouldn't put the thing down in the car on the way home. He snuggled with it until it was safe inside the house. It was meant to be! Welcome home, Bowser!

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but my dog is better than your dog.

There's something in the water...literally

It was a hot summer day in suburbia. Well, I call it suburbia. My grandpa said we lived in a forest and he swore up and down he’d get eaten by a bear when he came to visit. My grandfather’s definition of forest meant any bit of land involving a tree taller than him. And our yard had three large pine trees on a three-quarters of an acre lot. So by my grandfather’s definition, we lived in a huge forest. He also referred to any body of water as a “crick” (creek) even if it had Ocean or River in its proper title.

Anyway, in the forest, or suburbia, or whatever you want to call it, we lived in a neighborhood with a wide variety of socioeconomic statuses. My family lived in a smaller, older home amongst a neighborhood boasting million dollar mansions; we didn’t have luxuries like air conditioning or underground pools to keep us cool when the temperatures started to rise, or waterfront views of the Puget Sound to keep us occupied while we watched the maid fold laundry. But we did have the most bad-ass, kiddy pool ever invented as off 1999.

It was a three-foot-deep, blow-up pool (probably made in China, and therefore containing large amounts of lead) that took what seemed like five days to fill with air (really it took about 30 min, but that seems like forever when it’s hot out and you need some fast heat relief).

On one unassuming day, I decided it was time to take a dip. The pool was littered with countless floating toys and inner tubes that covered the entire surface area. Yes, we crammed that dinky pool with floating devices. You could only float about a foot to the left or the right, but if you closed your eyes you could pretend you were on a beach instead of in the forest.

I stood in the water, shuffling the inner tubes around, preparing to sit in one, when a dark spot in the corner of the pool caught my eye. Slowly, I moved the inner tube away. My eyes became wide as I realized that I was staring at something furry with a tail. I shrieked in horror, “AHHH!!!! THERE’S A DEAD SQUIRREL IN THE POOL!!!”

I jumped out of the water and ran shrieking to the shower, scrubbing my legs that had come into contact with the dead-squirrel water. I couldn’t scrub them hard enough. I wanted to throw acid on my legs.

My dad heard me screaming and came out wondering what was going on. I kept screaming, “DEAD SQUIRREL! DEAD SQUIRREL!” Even while scrubbing in the shower, I couldn't stop screaming.

He walked out there, and removed the dead squirrel with a shovel. “It must have fallen from that tree and drowned,” my dad said looking up at the guilty branch that led the squirrel to its fate.

When he lifted the squirrel out of the water, it was rigor mortis with its arms outstretched as if it had attempted to go against all biological instinct and swim. Its mouth was open, trying to emit a squirrel scream, oblivious that it was inviting water to invade its airways. The poor guy ended up being taken out with the yard waste on garbage day. What a terrible way to go.

I never wanted to see a squirrel again, but I didn’t get that lucky, as they frequented my parent’s back yard as though we lived in the backdrop of freakin’ Snow White. Every squirrel I saw reminded me of the dead one I took a swim with.

After I was convinced our kiddy pool was haunted with the soul of the squirrel, we ended up throwing it away. Okay maybe my mom was just concerned about bacteria. Who knows what kind of squirrel disease stuck to the lead-infested plastic, only awaiting us for next hot summer day. Regardless of the reasoning, we were rid of the retched pool.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but look before you leap (into the three-foot kiddy pool).

YES!!!

The last time I cried because I was overwhelmed with utter joy and happiness was when I was watching Extreme Home Makeover. And because this occurred each and every time it was on, I had to make a conscious decision to stop spending my Sunday nights as a smiling, blubbering mess. I now purposefully change the channel before Ty's bleached tips can have a chance to blind my eyes.

But then today, it happened again. The cause: a simple text message: your mom got on the transplant list in sf!!! love dad

Right when my eyes met the word "list," a grin sprung across my face from ear to ear and tears started pouring from my eyes. Did I mention I was walking into the grocery store? People were looking at me like I was crazy, but I didn't care. We've been waiting to hear those words for a year and a half. I called my dad immediately and was walking aimlessly around the store, trying to remember why I drove there in the first place.

Once I hung up (and remembered to go towards the organic milk), I couldn't get through the line fast enough. I couldn't get out of the parking lot fast enough. The car in front of me wasn't going fast enough.

Once I was finally at my house. I bounded through the door and let out the biggest "whooo!!!" as though I were in a rock concert. I'm sure I kind of freaked out my new neighbors too. I did a happy dance all by myself, and practically jumped on my boyfriend when he came home from work. He even did a cartwheel in celebration with me :)

I called my mom and called my sisters and we celebrated through the receivers. I'm going home this weekend to celebrate some more.

YES! YES! YES!

Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but nothing will break my hope.