Objects In Mirror Must Be Bigger Than A Football

I think there are two types of people when it comes to little dogs. There are the "OOOOH! Wookitwahwiddlepuppysooocute!" people. Then there are the people that grab a football, compare it in size to the dog, and declare the little barking rat worthy of a good kick.

I'm with the second group. If it ain't bigger than a football then it ain't a dog.

Cody stomps all over that line between dog and not-a-dog, a fact which comes to mind every time I'm annoyed with him. He would be so much cooler and less annoying if he were just a tiny bit bigger.

Compared to Jelly, however, Cody is a giant.

Jelly is a Shih Tzu who is visiting for a few days while his humans hang out at the beach and try to pick sand out of body parts that aren't supposed to have sand stuck in them. Jelly is probably five pounds lighter than Cody, significantly less poofy, and much more of a high-strung maniac.

That's saying something. Cody is a high-strung maniac. Jelly is . . . worse. Much worse.

Jelly is afraid of pretty much everything that moves, and a few things that don't. For example, there was a wadded up piece of duct tape on the floor in our family room yesterday. I know that it was there because Jelly felt that the wadded up piece of duct tape was trying to assault him. He would not walk over it, past it, around it . . . nothing. All he would do is sit there staring at it, shaking with fear, and whimpering.

I had mercy on Jelly's poor not-a-dog soul and rescued him from the evil piece of duct tape. He thought I was THE BESTEST HUMAN EVER. Seriously, I got about ten minutes of love for picking up a piece of duct tape. If I could get rewarded like that for everything I pick up in this house, I'd be the most adored person on the planet.

Needless to say, Jelly is afraid of the cats. They are significantly bigger and louder and more prone to movement than the duct tape. Jelly is easily able to completely avoid Powder (he's too lazy to care that The Chinese Rat is visiting) and Ali (she's almost as skittish as Jelly so she has decided to hide until further notice). Max, however, is a whole other story.

Max is The Demon Cat. While he's sweet and cuddly at night, during his waking hours, he's a holy terror. I'm not exaggerating when I say I once had to pull him off the chandelier in our kitchen. He has destroyed a couple of house plants, a bunch of Alexis' necklaces, and is currently attempting to climb high enough to open the patio door. He's the most stubborn, single-minded, devious kitten we've ever had. Personally, I like him.

Jelly does not. Keep in mind, Max is three months old. Jelly is easily three times his size. Jelly should be able to glare at Max, growl, bark, and send him running. Both of the dogs in permanent residence have their, "Bitch, please" routine down pat and can send Max running in under 0.0000003 seconds.

Jelly just tries to run away from The! Big! Bad! Baby! Kitten! That would work out a lot better for him if Max hadn't decided that Jelly is a cat toy.

Yes, a cat toy.

Every single time Max sees Jelly, he lowers his shoulders, shakes his butt, and pounces. Poor Jelly hasn't figured out to just stand still when pounced, so he runs away. Max considers running away a challenge, so then he goes into Hunter Mode and continues to track Jelly, pouncing on him every chance he gets.

When your kitten mistakes a little rat-dog for a cat toy, you KNOW it's not really a dog.

This Is What Summer Is All About

Correcting The World's Wrongs With Campfire Bananas

"What are you doing?" my husband asked. He was staring at me as if I had eighteen heads, each with 20 piercings and Mike Tyson-esque tattoos.

"Making Campfire Bananas," I said. In my head, his question was quite possibly the dumbest one I had ever heard him ask.

"What are those?" he asked.

::blink::blink::blink::

::blinkblinkblinkblinkblink::

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"Yeah, what are they?" he responded.

"You are a victim of child abuse," I told him in a bewildered tone.

I turned to Twitter to report this crime against humanity. AND OH MY GAWD. People. PEOPLE! How are so many people oblivious to wonder and majesty that is Campfire Bananas? I weep for the childhood memories you don't have. WEEP.

My memories of Campfire Bananas are wrapped in Girl Scout camp and fires by the lake and all sorts of . . . . hell, who really cares? We're talking about bananas, chocolate, and marshmallows here. The details are pointless.

Anyway, let me share with you how joy can be packaged in a banana peel.

Campfire Bananas

You'll need some bananas, chocolate chips, marshmallows, and I am a fan of throwing some peanut butter into the mix as well. Of course, Nutella could also be thrown in there, but only if you are awesome enough to understand the majesty of Nutella.

Peel one strip from the banana and then cut a groove in the banana, kind of like how the Sandwich Artists at Subway used to cut the bread "boat style."

Stuff that strip full of good stuff.

Put the peel back in place. (You can eat the little bit of banana that you cut out--I won't tell anyone.)

Wrap it in foil.

Throw the banana in your fire pit, fireplace, fire bowl, or whatever form of pyromania you participate in. Hot coals work better than actual flame-age.

Let it sit on the fire long enough for the chocolate chips to melt. How long it will take depends on how hot your fire is.

Once it's done, unwrap it, pull the peel all the way off, and eat.

A whole herd of neighborhood kids declared them, "Soooooooo nuuummmmmy!" Best part, now they won't grow up deprived like anyone who has never had a Campfire Banana.