A Diamond in the Ruff

I am no fun.  Risk averse. Chaos averse. I’m in recovery for non-spontaneous behavior syndrome.  I lack impulsivity.  Looking for a wild evening that could lead to anything? Don’t go with me.  Looking for a vacation where I have researched, planned, and booked things with 5 contingency plans and 2 extra of everything in your suitcase? I’m your woman.  If I wrote a memoir, potential titles would include “Addicted to moderation: One woman’s adherence to balance.”  I’ve been avoiding obvious blunders like the plague for as long as I can remember.  I figure enough crap happens that I have no control over…I have plenty to fill up my ’embarrassing story’ bank.

I need for no more. But-

I’ve gone ahead and done something wild.  Truly flies in the face of all logic.  It’s unlike me.  Maybe 43 is the year I really start to lose my grip on reason. I told my kids yesterday that this is probably the 2nd craziest decision I’ve made on purpose.  This was a huge decision.  They asked me what the craziest one was and I said, “Get married to a human.”  They rolled their eyes. I reminded them I loved Daddy but it was by far the single largest and most important decision I’ve ever made.  And now this.

So…(drumroll please) This happened.  Grover. He happened.

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We adopted him today.  I have a purse dog and I don’t have any clue what I’m doing. I ordered a book from Amazon on Yorkies.  It arrived the same day as Grover. Praise God for 2 day shipping.

I bought something called “Beef Fritatta” for him to eat.  I’m not kidding.

I went to Home Goods and bought a pet bed.  I literally had to whisper out loud to myself “The dog bed doesn’t need to be a fashion accessory.  You don’t need a chevron dog bed. Just pick something. Anything.”  Also, they sold Isaac Mizrahi designer printed bags for poop.  I don’t feel like I should pay extra for gift wrapped poop.  I resisted.

My son has already asked if we can buy him a sweater for Halloween and dress him up. Sure. What dog who has been rescued doesn’t love some fool dressing them up?  It’s not like he already has suffered enough humiliation growing up in a puppy mill.

Now, I’m not a huge dog person.   I’ve loved just two dogs in my life.  Snoopy was my childhood dog.  A hyperactive Brittany Spaniel.  My parents got Snoopy as a puppy to soften the blow of me getting a brother.  My mother readily admits it was not ideal to have a 4 year old, a newborn, and a puppy all being needy and helpless at the same time.  They let me name her (since they wouldn’t let me name my brother) and Snoopy was the only dog name I knew (Hey-I was 4!).  My poor dad would take her duck hunting and when others called out for Thor and Duke and Bandit and Maximus-he had to yell, “Snoopy, Bird down!”  That is me and Snoopy below. 8th grade. I can tell the year because of the unfortunate “I should totally get bangs!” idea.  See. Spontaneity-never pays.

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The only other dog I’ve ever loved was named Clyde.  Clyde, the massive black lab who belonged to some dear friends, was trained to play until you simply said “Game Over” and then he would sit and gaze at you with wisdom in his eyes.  He has his own theme song, “Clyde, clyde, the best dog in the world.”

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So, I’m not super keen on the dog thing.  I mean I’ve just recently trained 3 people to not eat things off the carpeting or pee on the floor and yet I find myself taking in something that will surely do both of the above and I can’t take away screen time as punishment.  I surely must be losing it.

The kids have been working on me for some time.  When I got pregnant with #3…my son said, “I want a boy. It has to be a brother.  If it isn’t a brother, I’d rather just have a dog.” That was 7 years ago and while he did get his brother, he hasn’t forgotten about the dog.

Then 3 years ago my two oldest children participated in something school called “The Principals Challenge.” It’s a summer challenge aimed at having kids keep up on reading/writing/math and if they complete The Trifecta (and they did because I cracked the proverbial whip ALL summer) they have lunch with the principal and get a gift card for the book fair.  The challenge requires each kid to write 6 stories.  At the end of the summer we had 12 original stories.  When I went to compile them for submission I realized there was a theme. 8 of them were about getting a dog, finding a dog, wanting a dog, dogs talking to other dogs, dreaming about a damn dog.

So why now?  Good question.  It’s the fault of the baby.  The baby is no longer a baby.  He said just two days ago, “Is it a thing now that people keep forgetting that I am six AND A HALF!?” Then a chain of events…One friend kept posting pictures of rescue dogs. Another friend knew of this specific rescue organization she knew and trusted (underdogrescuemn) This rescue organization was having a foster dog event 5 miles from my house. We went.  My two oldest sat in a pen filled with dogs that were in foster care.  I knew it the minute they set foot in there it was going to happen. Their eyes glassed over with happiness.  We talked to Grovers foster parent.  She said all the right things. AT the event was another friend from college I haven’t seen in 20 years. She works for the organization and is the one in charge of this breed of dog for adopting. She said all the right things. Except for the fact her own dog just had a $2700 surgery. I’m ignoring that.  Everything else she said was reassuring. Dog kismet.

It was meant to be.  I can’t even believe it.

I am not a dog person. Yet.  I’m very much a people person.  And my people?  These people. They neeeeeeeed a dog.  Badly.  So Grover it is.  Honestly, I couldn’t even live with myself if they don’t have this experience.

They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend but dog is mans best friend.

If this doesn’t go well, next time I’m getting a diamond the same carat weight as Grover.

Ooooooooooh he is pretty darling though.

Help.Me.

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It’s a sign: Except when it isn’t

We all need some reminders in life from time to time. Signs. Instructions.  A visual prompt in an otherwise chaotic world.

I’ve been collecting things for this for a bit…I could have entitled this post, “Things that I have spent entirely too much time pondering”  but that just sounds sad.  So-signs.  The following signs/printed materials have been bothering for some time. So please, join me in my bewildered irritation.

This is on my street. I think of my dad every single time I pull onto our street because the very first time he came to see the house he said, “Oh, Jen…do you really want to live here?  You’ll end up having slow children. Look how slowly they run!”

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This one is just around the bend.

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I was recently describing what neighborhood I lived in to a new friend and I said, “We are right past the turtle sign.”   She said, ” I think that sign is a joke.  Right? It has to be a joke.”

I don’t think the city would use taxpayer dollars for a joke, at least not so overtly. A month ago they added the orange flag. Higher alert.  Not a joke.

Hey-I love turtles.  But they don’t exactly ‘dart’ out onto the road. Deer?  Deer jump out at you.  People total their cars and get injured when they hit a deer with their car.  Snapping turtles?  No.  So this sign WITH the huge orange flag is basically saying “Please drive with your eyes open in case a giant, boulder sized turtle is in the middle of the road and you may have to slow down or swerve around it.”

This is at my grocery store.

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What is the relationship between these people? Are they the 3 kids? If so, why does the one on the left have such a mom haircut?  Are they a female couple with a child in the middle?  If they are, why does the one on the left have the weird pouch on her dress?  Wait, is she expecting?  Is that an indication of a pregnancy? That’s just mean.  Stupid maternity clothes. And if she is expecting, why does her partner have to wear the same ugly type tunic?  Is that a mother with two children?  If so, why is the mom wearing the super short dress and the daughter is wearing the modest one?

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This is the sign at the restroom at a resort I went to on vacation.  Pipe and fan.  What on earth?  I went with fan.  I guess I’m more likely to use a fan than smoke a pipe?  But just barely. This is more vague than if they had written men and women in a language I don’t speak. I had to tell my six-year-old to go to the one with the picture of the tuba.

These are near a bridge that will be shut down for 2 years.  This made me laugh. It reminds me of Alice In Wonderland.  This is a series of signs if Alice hadn’t found the rabbit hole but had gotten lost in the suburbs instead.

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So while driving by, not only reduce your speed to 15mph, there is a bump coming up and it’s a one lane road and in case you are an idiot (TAKE TURNS!) Oh, plus there is a human directing traffic with a flag and if all else fails you also may have to stop.  In other words, just DO NOT drive down here.  Go away.

This was at Target. I posted it on Facebook.  I needed others to share in my horror. Immediately.

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In the Acid Relief and Planning and Protection aisle is where they featured a “Check this out” 50 Shades of Grey display.  Gross.  Actually seeing this made me need Tums.

These were at the grocery store.

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They called these “Big Yummy Muffins” which look neither big nor yummy to me.  Also, these were on the shelves in January.  Why the green muffin?  Not St. Patricks, not Christmas. Assorted Variety?  I would say so. Who would buy those?

I found this while shopping for an anniversary card. Wow.  I’m guessing a difficult year can’t be smoothed over with someone else’s words…even if there are TWO designs to choose from.

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and finally this…which has really bugged me for years.  My kids are sick of me talking about it.  They eat a lot of hot pretzels.

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This is the salt pack that comes with the pretzels in the clear cellophane bag.  Note: It reminds you to not use all the salt if you aren’t eating all the pretzels. Oh my word.  We have lost our way as a society. We need an instruction manual for pretzels. In case we don’t realize that if you use all the salt-it’s gone.

Signs. They are everywhere.

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