Five Things I Wish We Had Found on the Bulldog

1. An ATM hidden under her tail. I could totally use a convenient little spot for getting some extra free cash. I'd even be willing to put up with the requisite odor of Bulldog farts on my money.

2. A chocolate bar tucked into the folds above her nose. If I can be picky, I could really go for a Snickers right now.

3. The secret to eternal life tattooed on her belly. I could sell that sucker for major cash.

4. A brain between her ears. Enough said.

5. A new dishwasher under her toes. For the love of my sanity, the freakin dishwasher that came with this house has got to be the loudest blasted dishwasher that was ever made. You could land a helicopter in the kitchen and I wouldn't hear it because all I can hear is WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH from the ugly dishwasher that doesn't even manage to get dishes clean.

Instead of any of those fun options, we found a tick on Meg today. A TICK. On the dog who routinely mistakes me for her personal portable pillow.





Can't. stop. itching.


This. This is Why I Plan to Lock Her in the Basement for the Next Twenty Years.

Alexis has a boyfriend.

The little punk's name is Casey, and he is a classmate. Despite the fact that I've made it real clear to him that I am big enough to take him down, the kid has been spotted hugging my kid, holding her hand, and generally being all together way too freakin' adorable with her.

I swear it was just six months ago that my dear, sweet daughter was in diapers. Now she's going steady with a boy. OH. MY. GAWD.

Casey is all I hear about these days. "Casey wants to come to my house," Alexis tells me. "Casey didn't eat his lunch today," she reports. "Me and Casey played tag today," she says. I ask how some of the other kids are doing and if she played with anyone besides Casey. "Casey is my boyfriend," is always her answer. It's as if she has dumped all of her best girl friends for a boy.

Fan-freakin-tastic. I thought I had ten more years before I had to perfect my Watch Yourself, You Little Punk Stare.

Tonight Alexis was out in the front yard with me, helping me rip out weeds and grass for a flower bed. She told me all about her day as we worked, including all the fun things that she and Casey did together. It was all very cutesy and fun and blah, blah, blah. Suddenly she stopped her gushy Casey talk mid-sentence and started staring across the street. "What do you see?" I asked.

"Look, Momma. There's a boy," she replied.

As my eyes rolled out of my head, I looked over and saw the 4-year old who lives directly across the street walking down the sidewalk with his slightly older brother.

"Momma," Alexis continued, "he's cute."

"What about Casey?" I asked.

"I can have two boyfriends," she replied.

And then I died.


I Wonder if They Had Any Idea that it Was a Dog Making All that Noise

When our Realtor told us that our townhouse buyer wanted to have our kitchen appliances included in the sale, I said, "HAHAHAHAHA! SUCKA!" She probably heard, "I guess that would be OK." Either way, BUH-BYE!

While the appliances were fairly new (we replaced everything when we remodeled the kitchen five years ago), I hated them. Especially the fridge. It was a good fridge in theory, but in reality, it was evil. We found it at a Sears Outlet for less than half the regular price because it had a huge scratch on the right side, which just so happened to be the side that was up against a wall in our kitchen. It's problem was that it defined "self defrosting" as "melt the frost and then pee it all over the kitchen floor." Seriously, every single day there was a puddle by the thing. We tried and tried to get it fixed and finally ended up just letting a towel live on the floor in the "pee" spot.

So long, pissy fridge!

Of course the new house didn't come with appliances since the people who lost the house to foreclosure took everything that wasn't nailed down (and sometimes even that). I didn't think that was going to be an issue. We would run to the Sears Outlet, sell a kidney or two, and return home with a new stove and fridge.

I'm so over-optimistic sometimes.

For two months we kept an eye out for a decent deal. For two months all we saw were things that were either WAY too expensive, or WAY too beat up. I had thought we would already have the appliances before we moved, but we totally didn't. Then I thought we would just run out after we did the closings and return home with a fridge and stove, but we totally didn't. Finally, we spent an entire day running from store to store looking for something, anything, that we could live with.

Nothing. Anywhere.

Until Mr. Husband thought to check out That Place Where Geeks work. I happen to despise that place, but it turns out that I really, really, really can't live without a fridge. I could go months without a stove, but one day without a fridge was enough to make me cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. It was worth a try.

We walked into That Store Where the Geeks Work, and immediately I spotted a perfect stove. It just so happened to be a scratch and dent and was marked down $700. SCORE! That left us with the all important fridge.

I stared.

I paced.

I compared.

I couldn't make a decision.

When at last I did finally make a choice (You'll note--that's "I" and not "we." Mr. Husband would have nothing to do with the actually deciding. BAH!), the one I picked turned out to be on backorder. Of course. We could wait two weeks, or I could go pick a different fridge.

I was so frustrated I said I would just go check more stores. Brilliant, I know.

I spent most of last Monday searching all of Greater Pittsburgh for a decent deal on a fridge, and NOTHING. It's like everybody saw me coming and rushed to hide anything priced under $1K in stainless. (I have a weird thing about spending a lot on a fridge--all it does is keep my food cold. I don't need fancy. Just pretty.) (Pittsburghers, please don't list stores I should have checked in comments. Trust me, I went to every. single. one of them. I get irritated with myself just thinking about how much time I wasted.)

At the end of it all, I ended up back at That Place Where the Geeks Work. I went over budget and just grabbed the first semi-pretty fridge I could find.

We didn't really want the responsibility of getting the appliances across the just-replaced wood floors without damaging them, so I shelled out the $30 for delivery, which was scheduled for last Thursday.

Except, somehow the fridge ended up under my name and the stove under Mr. Husband's, so That Place Where the Geeks Work got confused and thought it was OK to split up the deliveries. From there, it was a short trip to them deciding to deliver the stove early. A full day early.

Whatever, I dealt with it. The stove delivery was scheduled between 12:30 and 2:30, so I quickly sped home with the idea of using my lunch break to open the door and let people give me an appliance. 12:30 turned to 1:30 without any sign of installers, so that lunch break extended a bit. 1:30 turned into 2:15, and then the delivery guy called. They were running late, but would be delivering the stove within an hour.

Fine. I waited.

3:30 rolled around and I started to get antsy. 4:15 rolled around and I started to panic. Alexis has dance class on Wednesdays, and hell hath no fury like a kid who is forced to skip dance class. I waited ten more minutes and then called and left a message canceling the delivery, saying I absolutely HAD to leave.

At 5:30, the delivery guy called and said they were at our house. He didn't seem all that happy that I wasn't.

I think that's why he hid our stove. For real.

Thursday morning, the fridge showed up within the scheduled delivery window. But, the stove, which was supposed to have found its way into the same truck, was nowhere to be found. When I say "nowhere to be found," I mean people were saying, "CRAP! Where did it go?"

I finally decided to just go to work and figured they would find the stove eventually. Just as I pulled out of the daycare parking lot to head for my office, they called. Of course. The delivery truck with my stove on board was a mere 20 minutes from the house (allegedly). Meanwhile, I was 30 minutes away. I didn't let on to my little dilemma, and instead just thanked the delivery dude for calling.

Miraculously, I beat him to the house. By an hour and a half. I guess some guys not only use a different ruler, they also use a different clock.

Whatever. They showed up with my stove.

And proceeded to make me insanely sporky. As in, I was ready to dig out my titanium spork and put one of the delivery guys out of his misery. He was a mouth breather. I cannot handle mouth breathers. And when I say he was a mouth breather, I mean he made Darth Vader seem like a silent kind of guy. I felt like I should look around for the ventilator because there was NO WAY someone could possibly breath that loudly.

I managed to hide a good 50-feet away while Mr Vader fussed with the stove. Of course the thing wouldn't just slide into place, so it took him a solid hour to get everything connected and happy. In the meantime, the dogs were blocked in the basement, so Meg was going nuts. She kept making her ridiculous whiny Bully noises, perfectly countered by Vader Installer.

Mr Vader: hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh *Hand me* hhhhhhhhhhhhhh *the* hhhhhhhhhhhh *drill* hhhhhhhhhhhh
Mr Vader: hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh *I have* hhhhhhhhhhhhh *your stove* hhhhhhhhhhh
Mr Vader: hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh *I am* hhhhhhhhhhhhh *your* hhhhhhhhhhhh *father* hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Me: I didn't say anything because you can't talk when your brain has exploded all over the place.

After an hour of that insanity (Meg never gives up. Ever.), we finally were fully equipped with all the important appliances.

Which we still haven't used.

Not even once.

I guess it would have been OK if they hadn't been delivered last week after all.

(I finally bought groceries on Sunday--three days after the fridge was delivered.)

(Now accepting bets on how long it takes for me to completely lose my mind over that crap paint job the previous owners left behind. And the missing microwave.)