Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Very Important Mowing

I'm riding my bike home from taking Max to school. The stupid bike is being all squeaky & annoying as it tends to get after I do something crazy, like use the brake. 

I've got Lucy with me on the Walky Dog (with a harness, thanks to The Dog Outdoors, thanks guys!) Things are pretty uneventful, the ride to school is mostly downhill so that's nice. There are a few dogs at school so I kind of avoid them as best I can because Lucy is still stupidly leash aggressive toward other dogs. Get her off leash and she's your dog's new best friend. On the leash? My dog is a total asshole. 

We come across a man mowing his lawn with a push mower. Lucy, it turns out, is terrified of those kind of mowers. THEY'RE EARTH FRIENDLY and Lucy doesn't roll like that. It's good old oil or nothing.

She freaks out, stops moving and we're at a standstill right by the mowing man. She's wrapped herself behind the bike to get away from that TERRIFYING mower. 

I kind of laugh, tell the man "Oops! I guess she's afraid of push mowers...ha ha ha."

Nothing, not a smile, not a shrug, not a middle finger pointed in my general direction. 
A blank stare. Maybe he was deaf. 

I try to untangle her from the bike so I can move the bike forward away from the HORRIFYING push mower. Lucy's struggling with moving to the correct side of the bike because it's closer to the DEMONIC push mower. 

So I have to pick up my bike and try walking forward away from the mower. 

This is a less than one minute process. But the man with the HAIR RAISING push mower is in a big hurry so he keeps pushing his stupid mower right next to us. Making Lucy try to get away from it. Making me sort of stuck there. 

Sometimes I just don't get people. 

On the bright side people ask me pretty often if I'm afraid of falling off the bike if Lucy gets scared or sees another dog. I'm happy to say I've never fallen off the bike or been afraid of falling off the bike even when we see another dog or something as awful as a push mower. 

Oh, Lucy.

Jewelry Shopping: Cheap

A while back I shared a bunch of clothes I was planning to buy for my trip to Florida. I have not bought many of the items on the list but did get the shoes and Logan surprised me with the necklace.

The necklace has done what I hoped it would, taken my otherwise very boring wardrobe and infused with a look of intentional minimalism to highlight my crazy jewelry. Black wrap dress: Yawn. With the necklace: POW! Black t shirt, cropped jeans and cardigan: Bor-ing. With the necklace: Blam-O!

So I've decided to continue with that theme of dressing myself in very plain and boring items using accessories to give it a little lift. To do this however, one needs more than a single piece of statement jewelry. Otherwise your exciting piece of jewelry becomes just another layer of boring.

I found a few necklaces for super cheap at Charlotte Russe, and no, they're not sponsors. I just liked them, bookmarked them and have had a raging case of Writer's Block so I thought I'd share them with you.

Hurry up and wear the hell out of turquoise before it's not cool anymore.
 Marbled Bead Necklace $10.50

I'm not usually a big fan of gold but I'm finding it difficult to resist the bobbles. 
 Yellow And Gold Bobble Necklace $7.99

 
More Bobbles!
Bobble Pearl and Flower Necklace $7.99

 

These are sweet little earrings to wear when your necklace is screaming, "LOOK AT ME"
Filligree Flower Button Earring Trio $4

 
I admit it, a little neon and maybe a little 80's but they're so small I can let it pass.
Set of Six Multi Colored Earring Set $4

 
Look at this cute top? $22!
Rosette Detail Wrap Around Top

Spring Cocktails: Mommy, is Uncle Jack visiting?

What’s Jack Daniels doing in my lemonade? Making it delicious! Vodka and lemonade is a great summer refresher, but... Vodka, whiskey and Lemonade is an improvement! The addition of whiskey definitely adds some mettle but it gives the drink a great flavor. 

You might think of Lynchburg lemonade when you think of a spiked lemonade recipe and I’m a fan, no lie. The typical Lynchburg recipe combines Jack Daniels, sweet & sour mix, triple sec and sprite and it’s a great summer drink. 

If given a choice though, I’ll make my drinks without pre-made mixes. Freshness matters! If you’re really ambitious, here’s a lemonade recipe that looks lovely.

Here’s my “Mommy is Uncle Jack visiting?” recipe:

Ghost of a Dog.

This is Lucy asking why in a free world she isn't allowed to go with me....everywhere.

So two weeks ago I was at the vet concerned about Lucy and her urine. The next week I was at the vet with Gary who was peeing blood on Maddie's bed. This seems...like a pretty good indication your cat wants you to know he doesn't feel good.

He seemed very sick. Very sick. I have a couple of friends with cats who peed blood, ended up with crystals in their urine, ended up with a blockage. Ended up with surgery, a $2000 vet bill and a cat who died anyway.

The animal rescue where we got Lucy would frown and legally remove my dog from my home if they knew this but...there's no way I can spend $2000 on Gary's bladder. So as we know, I harnessed the power of worry into a giant ball of sobbing incoherence on the phone with the vet. When I arrived, Gary covered in urine, I was convinced he was going to die. 

Gary dying would be undeniably sad. He is Maddie's best friend and I'm pretty fond of him too. I mean he's no Lucy but still I love his easy going personality. But the thing that was giving me hives and "ugly cry" was the thought of having to tell the vet, "I can't spend my money on this."

Luckily, or maybe unluckily, Gary did not have a blockage. So I handed over all my money, and took my urine soaked cat home to convalesce in the bathroom. I've spent the 7 days since then shoving a syringe in Gary's throat a few times a day. 

He isn't entirely pleased by this and could also use a nail trim so I'm a human scratching post. 

I'm not exactly known for my positive attitude and this last few weeks is no exception. The lucky thing is I'm having a really great week this week because I'm almost done nursing a cat back to health and (so far) this week there has been no animal urine in my general vicinity. 

It's nice when your week is considered good because nothing's peeing on you. Here's to the best week ever!

I thought it was April showers and May FLOWERS

So far May is full of pee. Rivers of pee! Animal pee! Bloody PEE!

What May is not full of = Lots of Extra Cash.

I mentioned last week that Lucy had been peeing all over the house and acting a little...grouchy.

I took her to the vet and found out she did in fact have a urinary tract infection. Which was just about the best case scenario because my God she was being awful to live with. I mean, even aside from the urine she was being obstinate, picking fights with her furry siblings and generally not listening to us. Which aside from the urine is a lot like Maddie on a regular basis. 

So we got her fixed up and my week last week was joyously free of urine.

And then this morning I woke up to the cat peeing blood all over the house. Which works out well since we're pinching pennies this week after a car repair and some other unexpected expenses ate up our extra living cash for the pay period. 

Weeeeeee! 

I never told that lie again.

I was in sixth grade, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in my own skin. Sixth grade was a hard transition for me. The middle school building felt too big, so did the eighth graders. 

I hated riding the bus. There were these two girls, both in eighth grade, who knew my brother from the sub shop he worked at over the summer. They smoked and I was terrified of them.

They wanted me to sit next to them on the bus, in the back of the bus. Where they treated me with a mix of awe, because of who my brother was, a senior in high school and pity, bordering on teasing because I was a very small sixth grader who was obviously terrified of them.

One day on the ride home in the back of the bus, one of the girls started teasing me about not ever having had a boyfriend. This was true and would remain true until I was 20 years old. I'd never really thought about having a boyfriend, but I knew I was behind everyone else. I mean, I wasn't even smoking cigarettes like these girls. 

I felt ashamed that I wasn't normal. I didn't want them to know I wasn't normal. So I lied. 

There was a boy I grew up with down the street. He was the most popular boy in school all through elementary school and now in middle school as well. We'd played together as younger kids but the older we got, you know, he did boy things. Or rather things with the popular kids who were a little more normal than me. 

I told them he'd been my boyfriend, just for a little while over the summer, and I'd broken things off. 

They didn't believe me but I stood behind my lie.

The next day as we all filed off the bus one of the girls yelled after the popular boy who was walking with a group of his friends. 

"Hey! Melissa says you were her boyfriend this past summer. That's not true, right?"

I stood there knowing I'd lied and knowing I was about to be humiliated and there was nothing to do but stand there and wait for it to happen. 

The popular boy turned around, looked a little uncomfortable, and said: 

"Yeah, we went out this summer."

That's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. 

The World's Lamest Epiphany

I decided last week it was better that I just shut my pie hole because pretty much all I wanted to say was "Well, this month was a total bust." And, enh, that's boring. 

Now it's May and May is going to be better. Especially because I've signed up for the May session of Mondo Beyondo. Because inspiration is what I need right about now. I feel a little stunted, probably because half the things going on in my life right now aren't things I can talk about. That's always good for a person who enjoys writing about her life. 

I could show you the work I've been doing on our front porch, but my camera is broken. This makes me so sad I'm having a difficult time expressing my grief. 

I could tell you about how my brother has decided not to speak to me anymore. But I'd only make the issue worse and I'm hopeful someday he'll decide to speak to me again so my kids won't miss out on having a really great aunt and uncle. 

I could tell you how this dog has lost its ever loving mind and is peeing in my house all the sudden. Including on the before mentioned revamped porch. On a cushion, a cushion I unwittingly sat on to eat my breakfast yesterday. These are the kinds of things I don't really get over very quickly. Sitting in dog urine = day ruiner. 

Well, see? This is why I just shut my pie hole last week and should have kept it shut. 

Here's something marginally more entertaining. 

Last week I had the world's lamest epiphany. 

Many times I'm kind of racing around quickly getting food on the table at dinner time. Well, during dinners I just sort of throw together with frozen vegetables and pasta on nights when we're too busy (or too lazy) to do a full sit down meal. 

When I get both the kid's food on the table I feel sort of like a waitress and I can finally take my smoke break. 

Max has milk with every meal. And it's like a tic of his to immediately upon sitting down to ask me for his milk. There's an urgency to this, like his milk will keep him alive. As if today, after 8 years of serving milk to this kid at dinner, I'd suddenly forget to serve the milk and he'll die. 

I've found myself racing to get to the milk before he can ask for it because something about the asking for the milk just grates on me. (I know, it's dumb.)

The downside of having just two kids is you can actually do everything for them. My friend has four kids all about a year apart. Her youngest son who is five, can tie his shoes, balance the checkbook and makes a mean chicken marsala. 

Her expectations for her kids are a little higher because in order to get dinner on the table or get out the door in the morning in a reasonable amount of time, the kids are going to have to learn to be a little more independent. 

So suddenly, I realized: 

Max is nine years old. 
He can get his own milk.

Thank you! I am a parenting genius! I'll probably write a book about this.