We Are Blending

Picture, if you will, this scene:

I'm sitting at my desk, responding to a number of emails and about to concentrate on design work.  All of a sudden, a deep rumbling gurgle emanates from the area of the living room.  The dogs start carrying on and whining.



Is it an earthquake? Not in Georgia. Had some wild creature found its way into the house? Not really.  It was Dear Fiance, performing an unprecedented belch for the entertainment of the dogs. And in spite of myself, I laughed.  Hard.

Now this isn't our usual sort of behavior. We're not rednecks who'll swill down a 12 pack of beer and produce gutteral sounds for the lowbrow entertainment of our friends and family.  We walk upright. Mostly. We have never even owned a bug zapper.

What is it about men that causes them to rejoice in their rumblings so much that they must share with the other animals around them?  Is it a modern Call of the Wild?  I wonder ...

Ah Spring!!!  Glorious Spring!!!!!  Even though it's rainy and cold outside today, yesterday got to 70 degrees and sunny.  It was bliss.

The terriers seem to think so too.  They respond like crack addicts in anticipation of their next high as they gleefully slither past us at the front door into the great beyond ... or in our case, the neighborhood.

Canine delights abound by the creek in our back yard.: there's sniffing, chasing squirrels, and of course, d i g g i n g.  Lots of digging.  Epic digging for rodentia of any description, because they are, indeed, Rat Terriers.

They mean business.






Only treats and their favorite squeaky bone can induce them to come back inside for their inevitable baths ... *sigh*

Why do we let these adorable monkeys into our homes and hearts?! 

If our dogs were to create their own food pyramid, I think it would involve a lot different stuff than we might imagine.

Rugby is just one of those memorable sports.

You'll just have to figure out for yourself which one of those guys might be Dear Fiance, but let's just say that good rugby players keep themselves  fit.  Very fit.  Nicely fit.

Yes indeed.

Because in a sport where they wear no pads and hit really hard, players have got to maintain some serious muscles to protect themselves.
So - they don't actually play naked, but without protective padding, they might as well be bare.  And that picture was good, wasn't it?

The kids, dogs, and I are just about to leave to watch Dear Fiance play rugby.  They watch for the excitement.  I go to be supportive, but mainly to look at his amazing legs while he plays.  There, I've said it. :D

Happy Saturday, Dear Reader!!

Our lovely hometown has a district known to law enforcement as "the Iron Triangle."

This afternoon, after playing a rugby game, Dear Fiance ended up chasing our dog Darcy across a crowded highway and into the Iron Triangle for close to 10 minutes.

To give you an idea of how unbelievable this is, you have to understand that even cops refuse to drive into the Iron Triangle unless there are two squad cars going at a time.

Because they're scared.  No kidding.

DF sprinted after Darcy, now affectionately dubbed "numb nuts," straight through traffic and into the worst part of town imaginable to save my little terrier from being lost or hurt.

He's my hero.  Although I asked him to please remember next time to that he's more important than any animal!

As I zip toward the shower for a meeting this morning I can't help but notice a nice sized splat of dog vomit on the floor, right next to my treasured Taylor guitar.

Nice. Very nice.

But there's something so sweet, so innocent about those little faces of theirs.  Even Hobbes, Dear Fiance's hound/boxer mix, has the sweetest disposition so I couldn't stay mad for very long about his mess in the kitchen yesterday.  Even though I felt like I was cleaning up after a circus animal. *gets a little sick in throat* Nuff said.

This is not normal around here.  The dogs are housebroken and are taken out several times a day since Dear Fiance and I both work out of the house. These are very pampered pooches.

But there's something just so sweet, so dear about their faces, their dispositions, and I can't stay angry or even that disgusted with their "mistakes" around the house.

How can you stay angry at a face like this?

OMG, I turned around to take a picture of Picasso to finish up this article and he was chewing on DF's rugby mouth guard, still out from practice last night ...

His cuteness incapacitates me.  Both of them.

For reasons that are too distressing for me to ponder, our puppy Picasso raided the dirty laundry basket and purloined another pair of my favorite panties.  He managed to completely digest the essential zone from a particularly nice pair.  Well, it used to be nice.

Adding insult to injury, Picasso chose to flaunt his crime by leaving them under my bed, which is clearly visible from the powder room. This means that during and after his chew-fest my kids (and their friends) could be treated with a view.  I was oblivious what was going on, guessing that the random light colored something was more shredded paper, when Dear Fiance grabbed them out from under the bed and waved them at me to show me what the dog had done.  This is not the stuff of romance novels.

It does however, teach me two very important lessons.  First, I should stash the dirty laundry in a more secure location. And second, I have GOT to start wearing my glasses!

Thursday I drove our rat terrier Picasso (named by Dear Daughter because of his asymetrical coloring) and Dear Younger Son to the middle school in order to clean out his locker.

While there, he discovered several "lost" worksheets from last semester, as well as something slimy, brownish green, and indistinguishable that was residing in a zip lock sandwich bag.  Thankfully that seal held, because the stench was liable to be lethal if the bag had come open.  It was revolting to look at.  Even the dog turned away from it. That's saying a lot.

After DYS carefully disposed of this alarming find we took Picasso to meet one of his favorite teachers.  While there, DYS mentioned the pre-historic sandwich, treat, who-knows-what, and his teacher got ALL excited!!

"Oh My God!!  Do you still have it?!"

We paused, wondering if she was kidding and just why anybody would get so thrilled over something that repulsive. "Oh! Mrs. Toadstool, the Science teacher, would go nuts over it!! She absolutely LOVES mold!  One time I left an orange here over vacation and it turned into a giant green puff ball.  I gave it to her and you'd think it was the most wonderful gift ever to see her face!  See if you can dig it out of that trash can and leave it for her!!"

Again, we paused.  Could she be serious?  Evidently, one person's revolting, slimy stink bomb really can be another person's delight.  God knows what kinds of mold are in that bag.  I shudder to think of it.  But a middle school science teacher strolled into her classroom to discover our gift, complete with explanatory note.  We were assured that she would jump and down, squealing with delight.  Let's hope so...

Now I have to wonder: What will her husband get her for Valentine's Day?

Tonight I want to tell you something amazing.  Jake and I got engaged!!  For those of you who know me and Jake, you know that this really isn't his name.  But Jake is such a good name to describe him that I'm sure you'll forgive me.  It's manly, hot, and let's face it, Jake is a pretty fun and interesting character in the Eclipse series!

It was so natural.  We were talking and he simply asked me to be his wife.  For one stunning moment I couldn't answer.  Jake started to tell me I didn't have to answer him right away, when I just pressed my finger to his lips so that I could finally say "Yes!"

This picture was taken at the jewelry store where we found my ring.  He got down on one knee and proposed all over again. It is truly the most exquisite ring and I couldn't feel more lucky.

But there's so much more to tell, Dear Reader.  There's a wedding to plan, and there are two households to combine.  Jake needs to meet my Mom and extended family.  I need to meet his extended family.  Dogs must be trained, kids must be cared for sensitively, and I can't stop working out every day just because there's more to do in a day than there used to be. And most challenging of all:  I gave up coffee the day after Thanksgiving. Caffeine had been the love of my life before Jake.

So for tonight, I wish you pleasant dreams, wishes that come true, and a steaming cup of caffeinated goodness in the morning.  Tea lattes, anyone?