Holding Onto the Warm Fuzzies

It's cold. Very cold. I'm not whining . . . actually, I am whining. It's MARCH, for flaggle's sake. This thing where it was blustery with temps in teens and a windchill below zero is simply not acceptable. It's totally reasonable to expect 30's and 40's in March in Pittsburgh.

I am reasonable.

I'm also stubborn.

I made up my mind a few days ago that I was done wearing a winter coat. I'll wear 63 layers of sweaters and t-shirts, but my winter coat? Can just hang out in the back seat of my car. If I break down or something, I'll consider caving to the downy goodness, but short of an emergency? FORGET IT. It's March, dangnabit, and I am determined to act like it.

That is how I managed to find myself huddled by my car, shivering as I pumped gas into my very empty tank. I had on a sweater, a t-shirt, and an undershirt, but none of that was doing much of anything for my hands. My very cold, stiff hands. Because the universe loves to smack me around when I'm being stubborn, the gas station I was at didn't have those fun little latches that allow you to hide in your car while the tank fills. Nope, it was a You Stand Here and Feel the Freeze, You Dummy sort of pump.

I pondered how long it would take for frostbite to set in as I switched from holding the handle with one hand to the other. And back again. I thought about the fact that there were gloves sitting just a few feet away in my car. I glanced at the long line of cars waiting for a gas pump, surely driven by people who would not be amused if I stopped pumping gas to get gloves. I debated whether I would rather die from an infection when I had to have my frostbitten fingers amputated, or from a pissed off driver running me over with their out-of-gas car.

Then I looked up and a little someone caught my eye.

As I peered through the back window of the car, Alexis peered back at me. She had turned her head as far as she could and was intently watching me over her shoulder. As our eyes locked, she grinned the biggest grin you have ever seen. As I automatically grinned back, she quickly lifted her left hand and flashed "I love you" to me in sign language.

Who needs a coat and gloves when you've got a kid to make you feel all warm and fuzzy?


Freak Show Coming Through

Cody, Cody, Cody. He who loves to eat cardboard. He who makes the Toddler laugh daily. He who has the wrong freakin' name.

Not that I really know what his name should be, I just know "Cody" isn't quite right.

We have a Disney name rule around here, and that has always worked. Megara couldn't possibly have a name more fitting for her. She is the canine equivalent of Disney's leading lady who can't decide whether to play for the good team or the bad one. If there was a Hercules in our midst, he would certainly fall hard for her, only to have his heart broken as she two-timed and manipulated him. Yup, "Meg" works.

"Cody" doesn't.

Alexis named him. He is her dog. Therefore, the name will stay. Although, I knew it wasn't right even as I read aloud a list of male Disney characters back when we got him. It just doesn't "fit" him. (Mind you, I haven't watched The Rescuers Down Under in a long time. Maybe if I did I would find that the character and he seem to have something in common, as I have with every other pet we've given a Disney name.)

While he is stuck with his first name, his middle is a whole other thing. Months ago I tried to figure out just the right middle name for him, and it wasn't bound by any household prisoner naming rules. I thought something that started with a "J" so he could be "CJ" seemed fitting. I asked some people for suggestions, but ended up back at my original thought--Cody Jack.

Oh, but I should have listened to Mindbling when she suggested "Jaws."


Not only does the little man think he should eat our house, HE HAS TOO MANY TEETH. His baby canines didn't fall out, so he has four bottom canines happily co-existing in his mouth.

Here's another look:

The freak will have to get the extra teeth pulled at the vet's office.

Cody Jaws. The freak.


The Short Person's World View (Again)

I cleared off Alexis' camera again, and as always, it was filled with photos of her favorite things.

Her Princess Jasmine doll

Darby, the dumbest thing to ever appear on-screen with Pooh

The pups

Meg's head

Cody's head (Anybody impressed I know which end that is? I kind of was.)

Daddy wearing the shirt Alexis bought him

Ze Boss

I see a Meg. I see a Cody. I see an Alexis. Yet, I have absolutely no idea what I'm looking at.

A random update on dance class: Words cannot even describe the amazing difference between Alexis one week ago and Alexis today. There was participation. There were smiles. There was chattering with the other kids in class. There was laughter. Most importantly, there was fun. So . . . uh . . . crap. Alexis really is letting her dislike for the regular teacher stop her from doing something she enjoys. C-R-A-P.