Naked in Front of the Computer

Did you ever have one of those days where Karma walks up to you, smiles daintily and delivers a front snap kick to your groin?  I have a tendency to believe that the universe constantly seeks to find an equilibrium, that there is a balance, like the Force, that everything eventually comes to no net gain or loss.  When something good happens, something equally bad must take place to restore that balance. 

My weekend was awesome, kicked off with the Faith No More concert and then a great, fun-filled Fourth of July.   We started off our Independence Day with our neighbors’ annual breakfast picnic.  We then headed to the pool for a few hours of relaxation.  We ate a quick dinner at home and packed up for the parade.  We snagged good seats under a tree and the kids got a place right on the curb.  We stopped by home to drop my wife and daughter off and the boys and I went to the fireworks.

We found a great spot to watch the fireworks last year, the parking lot and sports fields of the middle school.  It is only a few blocks from the house and offers a perfect view of the show.  I planned to arrive early to secure the same position this year.  We were in luck and got to park the truck so we could sit in the back and the fireworks would be right in front of us.

The kids ran around in the field with flashlights and sparklers and then hopped into the bed of the truck as soon as the show started.  As soon as the show ended, we were about to fold up the chairs and head home, but the field in front of us exploded into light and sound.  Someone had prepared their own fireworks display right at the edge of the field.  About 800 feet in front of us, someone had set up several mortars, Roman candles, and rockets.  The display was almost as good as the one the town put on and lasted almost 30 minutes.  They even had a grand finale prepared.  Someone had taken a lot of time and money to put everything together.  The boys were amazed, they had never been that close to the fireworks before.  The secondary show elicited an even greater round of cheers and applause than “real” display.

We spent Monday lounging around the house, recovering from our long weekend.  Overall the weekend was a great success.  But the universe wasn’t pleased.  All of that good has to be offset by something bad, right?  Monday night, as the kids prepared for bed, everyone was commenting on how hot it was upstairs.  This is normal for our house, the upstairs is always hotter than the rest of the house, so we didn’t think anything of it. 

After everyone was asleep, I snuck downstairs to the basement and caught up on a few things.  By the time I was finished reading through the 100 emails I had gotten over the weekend, I was dripping with sweat.  The basement is always five to ten degrees colder than the rest of the house and I knew something was wrong.  I stopped by the thermostat on the way upstairs to bed and saw that while it was set to 77, the temperature in the living room was 88.  I could hear the blower running in the basement, but the air coming out of the vents wasn’t any cooler than the ambient air.  I ventured outside with a flashlight to examine the outside unit.  The fan was not running and I caught the smell of the magic blue smoke which meant something electrical was cooking.  I informed my wife that the A/C was dead and we started opening windows to attempt to reduce the temperature.  It didn’t help much. 

I spent the majority of today rushing around calling local companies and giving them the grand tour of heating and air conditioning system.  The current system is over 14 years old and has been patched and repaired several times since we have lived here.  During the last repair, which was only about 6 months ago, we were told it didn’t have much time left in it.  The options were to attempt to fix it again or replace the entire thing.  With a repair, there were no guarantees that it would last, especially with how hot it has been the past few days and the stress of running all day and night.  So we decided to replace it.  The first guy said he could have a new unit installed in two to three weeks with a lofty price tag.  Hmmm, umm, no.  My wife got a recommendation from a friend and that guy arrived an hour later.  He gave me the same prognosis, but offered to replace it by Thursday!  I am still waiting on his official quote which I should have tomorrow morning, but his ballpark estimate was much lower than the first guy.

While I was not on the phone or walking people around the house, I was searching for all of the pieces to a portable A/C unit that my father-in-law had given us a few years ago.  This little wheeled unit could be put in any room and had a flexible exhaust pipe that could attached to and vented out a window.  I found all of the pieces except for one, the piece that secured the exhaust hose to the window.  I scoured the entire house, literally top to bottom.  I was searched the attics (house and garage), the basement, every closet, every cabinet.  I did this at least three times before admitting defeat.  I was heading out to the garage to attempt to fabricate something when I decided I would try looking for it one more time.  I eventually found the piece hidden under a stack of remnant carpet pieces, a solar powered water fountain, a space heater, two rifles, and a set of grapevine reindeer all stuffed under the basement steps.

So what’s the big deal?  Millions of people around the world don’t have the luxury of central air conditioning.  Why am I such a wuss?  Well, I think my wife and I could deal with it, not happily, but we could deal.  I know the boys would be fine, they don’t seem to mind the heat at all.  But we are worried about the baby and the dog.  One year olds don’t have the ability to regulate their temperatures as well as adults and she is used to be in air conditioning all day long.  The dog is 11, weighs 90 pounds and is covered in a thick coat of hair. He did not enjoy today at all.  He paced around all day trying to find a cool spot to lay down.  Even when I had the portable A/C unit set up and running in the bedroom, he didn’t want to lay up there.  I took a cold wet towel and rubbed down his belly and under his armpits(?) a few times, which he seemed to enjoy.

On top of all of this, the boys had their annual doctor’s checkup, summer camp, Taekwondo, and I had a PTA budget meeting from 6 PM until 8:30 PM.  So I am sitting here exhausted and sweating in front of the computer.  Of course I am not naked, this office chair is leather and I don’t think that would be comfortable at all.

Trim up a Pussy, Save the Planet

Everywhere I look I see something about the current crisis in the Gulf of Mexico and the BP oil spill.  It is truly a sad and tragic event on so many levels.  My sympathy goes out to the families of the men that lost their lives on the drilling platform and to all of the families that will lose their livelihoods as a result of this accident.  The environmental impacts will be catastrophic and be felt for decades to come.  My hope is that this will all end soon and the area will recover as quickly as possible.

I don’t want to get into a debate on whether BP is an evil company or who is in right and who is in the wrong or the politics of the whole issue.  We all know that fossil fuels are bad, big corporations are bad and we all ride bicycles everywhere and light and heat our homes with mouse farts (free range ethically treated mice, of course). 

I wanted to talk about what we can do to help.  For every natural or man-made disaster that impacts our planet, there are literally hundreds of ways that you can help out.  It could be as simple as donating some money and sending clothing or food items, or as complex as joining a volunteer organization and heading to the impacted areas and lending a much needed hand.  Many of us cannot simply drop what we are doing and run to some far off place, regardless of how desperate the situation is, but that shouldn’t stop you from sending what you can.

Sometimes the ability to help comes from a very unlikely source.  A few weeks ago, my wife forwarded me an email from the mobile pet groomer that we used for our dog.  I would typically disregard an email like this as an advertisement for their monthly specials or something similar and just archive it, but my wife followed it up with an instant message and told me I should read it. 

Here is the message:

“I just shipped 23 pounds of hair and fur to the gulf coast to help with the oil spill.  This was collected from 141 dogs and 7 cats over the first 20 days in May.  The three Newfoundlands more than offset the cuts from the many Yorkies and miniature poodles.  The loose fur will be stuffed into nylon stockings which are doubled up and tied together to make "Booms" and "Mats" to surround and contain as well as soak up the oil spills.

…from your pets to the gulf!  Pretty amazing huh?   Give them a treat for me!  Thank you for your continuing support!

P.S. so how much hair is 23 pounds?  It tightly filled about 7 trash bags”

The email also contained links to a few YouTube videos:

That is a pretty cool concept and you don’t have to do anything that you wouldn’t normally do to help out.  So here is your chance, pet owners, to make a difference in the world.  Go out today, find a groomer that supports this organization and get your dogs and/or cats groomed.  Help save the Gulf Coast.  Seriously, can you imagine a world without crawfish étouffée in it?  I certainly don’t want to live in that world.

For those of you interested in getting your pet groomed, we went with Aussie Pet Mobile.  And to all of those people that read the title of this post and your minds raced immediately to the gutter and you read it anyway, well, you’re my kind of people.

A Day at the Spa

Not for me, but for my other half.  Not just any spa, but a mobile spa.  We have taken our dogs to various groomers in the area over the past 11 years and so far we haven’t really liked any of them.  There is always something that they just don’t do right.  When we first adopted our current dog, he arrived at our house straight from the groomers, within a few hours, we had discovered about eight ticks on him, some as large as raisin.  I think that is something a groomer should have noticed.  The other groomers in the area have been steadily jacking up their prices over the past few years and now the price doesn’t match the service that you get.

We decided to try out a mobile groomer for the first time today.  We have seen them in the neighborhood a few times and figured if the neighbors trust them, it’s not such a big gamble.  The groomer called just before she arrived.  When she got here, the dog and I answered the door together.  The groomer approached slowly, hands out with palms down.  She let him sniff and investigate, and she petted behind his ears, i.e. they became friends instantly. 

The groomer noticed his advanced age and said that since he was older she would help him into the van.  I just smiled, knowing that an open car door is all he will need.  I was going to mention that she didn’t even need the leash but figured she would find out soon enough.  She attempted to lead him over to the van, but he quickly took control and lead her around to the open door, jumped right in and sat down, like this was something he had done 1,000 times before.  I think he gave me a parting glance as the doors closed behind him, but he might have just been looking around for something to eat.

According to the groomer, this is the treatment:

1. Massage to relax him and prepare him for grooming – yes, a massage, I just assumed it was a fancy word for petting
2. Brush out
3. Cut
4. Shampoo
5. Conditioner
6. Towel dried
7. Blow dried
8. Brushed out again
9. Teeth brushed
10. Nails clipped (painting is optional)
11. Eyes cleaned
12. Ears cleaned
13. Cologne
14. Non-Bret Michaels Bandana
15. Treats

It took almost two hours.  Two hours of me looking behind my chair every time I had to back up, pausing at the stairs for him to race around me, glancing around every time I spoke (he thinks I am talking to him), etc.  When the groomer came back to front door, she looked to have all of her limbs attached and in the right places and she was smiling.  Our dog isn’t dangerous and he isn’t wild, but he is strong enough to pull me off my feet and I saw him snap a 2 inch tree branch in half with his teeth in one bite just yesterday.  He is also a bit over 90 pounds and I can’t imagine what it was like with him cooped up in a van for 2 hours.  I get drenched giving him a bath in the driveway and I get to stand 5 feet away. 

The dog was also happy and handsome, he looked 5 years younger and 20 pounds lighter.  She said he behaved very well and that he was very healthy.  She said she would definitely come back again when he needed his next haircut.  I began to wonder if she had a few tanks of nitrous oxide venting into the van.  I almost asked if she worked on humans too, because I could use a haircut, but I was afraid of the response. 

Once all the excitement wound down, the dog inhaled his lunch and took a leisurely bathroom break, he resumed his position behind my chair for the rest of the afternoon.

His breath still smells faintly of rotting fish, but you can’t have everything.

Before (the camera failed to capture the pungent odor of decaying anus emanating from between the black lips an inch below his nose):

After (happy, clean, pleasant scented guy sporting a badass black bandana):

Long Overdue

It has been almost a week since I last posted an update and I apologize.  I have been busy with work and home life and at the end of the day, when I sit down to write, I am either too tired or have something else that needs my attention.  This week all of my nights have been spent finishing up work projects, solving production support issues and spending time with the kids. 

This weekend was no different.  There was a birthday party on Friday night that kept me occupied until 9:30.  When I got home, all I wanted to do was stop my eardrums from bleeding and relax and not look at a computer.  I ended up watching Manchurian Candidate with Liev Schreiber and Denzel Washington.  It was a good remake of the original and put a modern twist on the original novel.  I have to admit that I am not a fan of Liev Schreiber, his eyes always make me think he is about to cry.  I also got to see The Men Who Stare at Goats.  It was humorous, but I really didn’t think too much of it. 

I spent about 30 minutes tonight re-ordering my Netflix DVD queue so that the Battlestar Galactica series comes next.  I have been putting it off long enough.  I can’t wait any longer.  I know, I know, how can I call myself a nerd and not have seen Battlestar Galactica?  I was not able to see it when it first came out and I vowed that I would not start watching it in the middle.  It wasn’t so much of a vow, it was more like an OCD thing that I could rationalize into a vow.

I scored a minor victory in getting the kids to watch Serenity with me, or making them believe that they wanted to watch it.  I tried getting them to watch it a year or two ago, but they weren’t interested.  I hope to leverage this into getting to watch Battlestar  on movie nights for the next several months.  The only downside is trying to get the kids to not walk around using the word “frack.”

We worked our butts off on Saturday.  The 5 YO and I went out to get the finishing touches for the veggie garden as soon as I was done the yard work.  He helped pick out all of the plants, loaded them on the cart and kept a mental count of everything we had.  We ended up with:

• (3) Bradley Tomatoes
• (1) German Queen Tomato
• (2) Roma Tomatoes
• (1) Husky Cherry Tomato
• (1) Pink Queen Tomato
• (3) Red Bell Peppers
• (3) Green Bell Peppers
• (1) Anaheim Pepper
• (1) Sweet Chili
• (6) Banana Peppers
• (1) Cubanelle Sweet Pepper
• (2) Zucchini
• (4) Blue Diamond Watermelons
• (6) Romaine Lettuce
• (6) Iceberg Lettuce
• (6) Buttercrunch Lettuce (which didn’t make it to the garden because I didn’t space things out properly)

This will be a butt-ton of produce if this works out.  We might have to build another bed next year or expand the existing bed if we get good results. 

The thunder is rolling and the rain is pounding down as I write this and I am wondering if our little garden will make it through this storm.  I really hope the morning sun does not reveal an empty 10’ X 12’ wooden box.  I am leaving it up to the gods of agriculture to ensure my garden doesn’t wash away. 

I figured the raised bed would keep the rabbits out until I had the defenses installed, but I didn’t plan on the Golden Retriever being a threat.  I was wrong.  He began eating the 12 cubic feet of garden soil (you know, that intoxicating mix of dirt, manure and compost) that we purchased as soon as started spreading it.  No wonder his breath smells like the ass of a dead skunk (we have some other very colorful descriptions for his breath, but I decided on the one least offensive).  I can’t wait to see what he does when something actually starts growing in it.

The boys and I spent a few hours planting everything and then rushed in to get showers.  I figure if each plant yields at least four vegetables or fruits we will have made our money back on the investment in the first year.

On Sunday, we installed the post caps to spruce up the garden a bit.  They are purely decorative and I think it makes it look less like a big wooden box.  We also added a few wooden signs to designate the different veggies planted in there.  I have one last addition before it is complete, but I didn’t get a chance to finish it.  More on that when it is done.

 

 

We also planted the replacements for the holly bushes that we dug out last weekend.  We got a small assortment of different shrubs from a local nursery and spent an hour after church planting them.  I don’t know how much longer the boys will be willing to help me out with all of the little projects that I have.  I hope it is not too soon, they are actually getting pretty good at it.  I might be able to rent them out and make a profit on it.

Right before dinner, we got to witness a great and scary thing, our 10 MO crawling for the first time.  Well, it wasn’t exactly crawling, but the ruling on the field was that she was on all fours and there was forward progress, enough to capture a toy a foot and half away.  It only happened once and by the time we were done clapping and coaxing her to do it again, it was time to eat.  By this time next week, I will have installed baby locks on all of the cabinets that don’t already have one and put up the baby gates on the stairs.  We had a great dinner tonight, Montreal Salsa Chicken on the grill.  I can’t remember where we got this recipe, but if anyone is interested in it, let me know and I will dig up a link.

That’s all for now, ass-breath the dog just made his way downstairs, opening the bedroom door and the basement door by himself.  He doesn’t like when it thunders, I don’t think he is scared, I think he just wants to make sure that I am alright.  I would be better if he chose to breathe in the other direction.

Conjoined

I have a conjoined twin.  I know that is somewhat of a shocking revelation, but it is true.  He is short, roughly one half of my height, covered in golden-red hair and his breath smells like rotten fish.  We are conjoined at an odd location, his head is joined with my butt. 

Yes, I am talking about my 11 year old Golden Retriever, Cody.  Our attachment is symbiotic, bordering on parasitic.  He gets to be petted whenever he wants and constant companionship and I get stress relief, a life long friend and dog hair everywhere. 

He has always been “my” dog, he is part of the family and loves everyone in the house, but he is my dog all the same since the first day he came through the door.  We adopted him a few years ago from a Golden Retriever rescue 5 months after our previous Golden passed away.  Cody was brought to our house, so we could check him out and so that he could check us out.  If everything worked out, we could “foster” him for two weeks before deciding if we would like to keep him.  When he first arrived, he and I sat on the floor in the kitchen together and he fell asleep in my lap as I petted his ears and head.  I knew then and there that he would not need to find another home, because he already had one with us.

Cody was given up for adoption because he likes has an extreme need is obsessed with people needs to be around people.  His previous “owners” (I will refer to them as “owners” and I have omitted many other names and descriptions to keep this as PG-13 as possible, but please feel free to insert whatever word you have for heartless bastards you may have) forced him and his brother to live outside for 6 years before finally giving him up for adoption.  The “owners” ran a business from their home and the dogs would smother their clients when they came over.  Goldens love people, it is a fact, maybe the “owners” should have thought about that or made better plans before they got them.  Cody’s brother was given up for adoption first and then a few months later, they gave Cody up.  In the end, they did the right thing, but that still doesn’t make up for 6 years.

As I have said previously, there are people that like dogs and those that do not.  I have always had a sort of animal magnetism.  Dogs seem to be attracted to me.  It is probably because I am receptive to them.  I talk to them, I pet them, I get down on the floor and play with them.  I don’t carry food or treats in my pockets, although based on my eating habits, I can see how you might assume that I would. 

Female dogs are a different story.  I don’t really know how to explain it, but every time I am near a female dog, they pee on the floor.  Sammy, Zoe, Reese, they are only a few of the bitches that wet themselves when I approach.  My effect on members of my own species is not so profound.

The bond between Cody and I steadily increased when I began working from home a few years ago.  At first, he would spend his days like he normally would, sleeping in the family room on the sofa.  But after a few months, he would hang out closer and closer to me, until finally we are the point now where he is figuratively/almost literally attached to my ass.

While I am at my desk working (most days I can’t even move my chair because some part of his body is blocking the wheels, the arm of my chair is at the bottom of the picture):

From Cody

While I am making dinner (picture taken from the kitchen counter him directly behind me, the OD Green thing at the bottom is my leg):

From Cody

While I am washing the dishes (I had to make him lay down away from the cabinets so I could actually move around):

From Cody

When I come inside and he is still outside (Cody can open the screen door by himself, but I have yet to capture this with camera or video):

From Cody

When I had to sleep in my 5 YO’s room last night (taken from the bed in the dark):

From Cody

When I am laying on the sofa (this makes power napping extremely difficult, the grey thing at the bottom of the pic is my chest):

From Cody

From Cody

Cody’s face is terribly bleached white from the sun and stress of having to live outside for 6 years.  His teeth are very worn down from having only sticks to chew on and play with when he was with his former “owners”.  It took about 6 months to finally get him to stop trying to pick up and play with every stick he came across.

I would not change him or his attachment to me.  I complain and curse when I trip over him or can’t get past him coming through a door or walking on the stairs, but we love him and he loves us.  And that is all that matters.

Note:  Cody frequently has very active and vocal “dreams”.  I have not been able to capture a clear video with good audio of one of them without waking him up.  I will post it as soon as I can get one.