Today was one of those days where everything that could possibly go wrong did and then a few more stupid things happened just to cap off the pure stupidity.
The result of this was exhaustion, frustration and admittedly mediocre-to-poor parenting.
The only way to deal with this is to call my mom and make her swear up and down that she had days like these, too. She said she did, and, hey, I’m not too screwed up, right?
Right?
Last night I was headed to the grocery store, when I noticed Ellie at the end of the driveway. This is a problem, because the end of the driveway is far beyond the Invisible Fence line, and she shouldn’t be there. So I got out of my car to get her, and then realized, it was, in fact, not Ellie.
For half an hour I ran her around to the neighbors to see if anyone recognized her, which they didn’t. And then I had to call Tom. You know it is true love when your cat-loving husband, who has already allowed two canines to reside in his house, sighs and tells his wife to bring home a third to stay in the garage overnight.
We took her to the vet today, on account of all those bumps on her face (they think she got into an insect nest of some sort and got stung), and then our adventure began.
GOOD NEWS! Our dog has a microchip! She has an owner!
BAD NEWS. The owner’s address is hundreds of miles away.
GOOD NEWS! One of the phone numbers listed is ringing!
BAD NEWS. The answering message is in Spanish. And you can’t leave a voicemail. The owners name is not even slightly hispanic, so we suspect this number is no longer current.
GOOD NEWS! We contact the vet who installed the chip, and they remember the owner!
BAD NEWS. They also remember the owner moved, but they have no forwarding address.
GOOD NEWS! We have the owners name, so maybe we can locate them!
BAD NEWS. 411, the white pages, the university directory, and Google yield no results.
GOOD NEWS! We put a sign on the road, hoping the owners live close and will drive by. We’ve called the police, the newspaper, and the shelters and left our name and number.
BAD NEWS. No calls yet.
So there’s still a dog in our garage. (She has to be separated from the others until the results of her ringworm test comes in.) I’m stumped. If I lost one of our dogs, even if I couldn’t remember the name of the microchip company, I would move heaven and earth to track it down. But the microchip company has heard nothing. The old vet has heard nothing. The shelters and the police have heard nothing.
I’m beginning to wonder if the owners don’t really want her back, which is absurd, because she’s as sweet as can be.
So, um, is anyone interested in adopting a very cute, spayed, young black lab mix?
FYI…we’ve managed to keep the kids in the dark about the dog, so help us keep it quiet until she’s out of quarantine!
Our city is working on its comprehensive plan, a document which will set the tone for what our home will look like in five, ten and twenty years. In a few weeks they’ll be holding some open forums to collect the public’s input, to build the vision we as a community would like to see.
I have an awful lot on my plate these days, but when I got a request from the vice-mayor to help facilitate some of these sessions, I happily agreed. I’ve been looking for small ways to make this town a place I love to call home, and this seemed like a great step.
Today I had a training session to prepare me for these meetings, and I’m excited to see creative and innovative ideas about our town. I encourage anyone who lives in the city to clear some time on your schedule on November 12th or 14th to contribute your two cents.
Just when I thought we were going to be stuck with a boatload of skeleton tees, we got some great press from UrbanBaby which resulted in an uber-good day.
While I was away last weekend, Tom detailed my car. Gone were the raisins which stuck to my shoes and the endless crumbs of crackers and granola bars.
Of course, this morning, Shep spilled an entire cup of hot chocolate on the floor of the car. But for that brief moment, it was glorious.
I was dreading this afternoon.
Tom went to a concert out of town tonight, so I was on my own. The afternoon loomed ahead. I stalled getting Neko out of quiet time, but finally relented.
But instead, it was a nearly perfect afternoon. Neko took the reins on snack, and proudly whipped up a “mix-up” from the ingredients in the snack bin. As we munched our mix-ups, we sat on the patio and decided what shapes the clouds looked like. Neko was a bit of a late talker, so it’s kind of mindblowing as of late to be having these real conversations where there’s give and take and reasoning and pondering.
When the other kids woke up, we kept bringing them outside and then Susie stopped by with Chris and Alex. We mucked around in the sandbox and they filled dump trucks with mowed grass, constructing a huge pile. Ellery got to spend some time in the swing, which is new for her, and she’s still a little wobbly and uncertain.
And then all of a sudden it was time for dinner and baths and then everyone was sleeping soundly.
People need to stop trying to put a bypass through our farm. It’s making me really cranky.
I consider myself a bit of an environmentalist, but there are some places I like to splurge. Toilet paper is one of them. I only like one brand, and I like to use plenty of it. I refuse to skimp when it comes to this aspect of my life.
When I picked up my new stockpile of Charmin last week, which I always buy in bulk, I didn’t really think too much when I noticed a packaging change. I picked up my trusty red package. But at the moment of product consumption a few days later, I realized something was terribly wrong.
Now that I have taken the time to compare my old roll to my new one and browse the internet for answers, I have discovered that Charmin has created a new dichotomy in its line where you get to select between strong and soft, and by looking at the pattern I can see that I’m a “soft” user, but that’s now in the blue package, and I bought the red package, so now I’m stuck with 24 rolls that feel like sandpaper and could probably bear the weight of a small donkey.
This week I hit the wall. I just wanted to package up leftovers, but all I could find in my tupperware drawer were lids. Something like 20 lids without a container to be found. Where are they? Where have they gone? It’s not like a sock, that easily slips between couch cushions or behind the dryer. This is hard plastic that hurts when you step on it.
So yesterday I bought new tupperware. For the low, low price of $20 I have renewed my spirit and restored my sanity.
Behold, in the valley of my kitchen, I see lids and containers march hand in hand and I declared all to be right and good in the world and now I can sleep with a clear head.
Once upon a time there was this group of happening single folks who spent their weekends getting completely schnockered and staying out late and seeing movies and then slept in the next morning. Now the same group of friends is all juggling babies and new jobs and new relationships, and it’s way more difficult to get together.
We try really hard, and this month was Brunch Club. I meant to take all these great photos, but came home with five crappy ones. But maybe what that means is that I was having such a great time chit-chatting that I totally forgot to take photos. But then that makes it sound like when I go places and take lots of photos that I’m having a crappy time. And that’s not true, either.
Oh, well. In this case, good food, good company, crappy photos.
Then I went home and begun the Big Dig, in which we unearth the remains of the house post-Ellery invasion and see if we can rebuild a civilized society.