BloggingDangerously

I never knew what they were sniffing for

I had to go to Dallas this week for a meeting.  It was an important meeting but one of the presenters was a British guy whose been in the US for 30 years but has a "just off the boat" accent which I'm pretty sure is just a marketing thing.

Anyway, he also LOVES the sound of his voice and so at some point during his presentation I zoned out. 

I zoned back in in time to hear him say that security these days was all about, "bum sniffing dogs."

"Huh," I thought to myself, "Is that what they're sniffing?"

After picturing dogs walking around airports sniffing passengers bums it finally occurred to me that he had said "BOMB sniffing dogs." which makes a lot more sense but also almost make me laugh hysterically in the middle of his boring presentation so I had to have a fake coughing fit until I was able to excuse myself.

It's tough living in my head.

Technically Chipmunks aren't Carbs

Since Christmas I've basically become a carb eating machine.  Candy, sure, but bread, Oh!  And with butter, OF COURSE.  Just the thought of it makes my heart race.

That's the carbs.

I told my daughters this morning that I was going to start a carb detox today and that I would probably be biting the heads off of chipmunks by the time they got home.  But that that's okay because, hey, chipmunks aren't carbs!

I'm taking it as a testament to my parenting that they haven't thought enough about dieting to think that was funny.

 

 

Sometimes I Should Just Stop Talking

So.  

How have you been?  

Apparently I've been on hiatus.   It wasn't really one of those things I DECIDED NOT to DO - writing.  I just didn't make a point of DOING it and so it didn't happen.  Like so many things...

But lately there have been a few times when I thought, "I NEED TO TELL THEM THIS" but then I remembered that I wasn't blogging any more and so I felt like I couldn't.

But then I KEEP getting the bill from my blogging service provider so I'm pretty sure I can.

Anyway, here's one of the things that happened to me today.

I need to have some windows replaced in my house.  I called a contractor 10 months ago and apparently he sent the proposal so the wrong email address and I just realized it in May so I called his office and started working with his admin to get the contract, get it signed and schedule the work.

But then I went on a TRIP to Kentucky for a month and didn't have a printer or a fax machine so, oops.

Anyway, I'm back now and finally emailed the paperwork over last week but you can't email credit card numbers so I had to call today to pay for the work.

So I called today and asked the admin, "Did you get my paperwork?"  Well honestly she sounded like she was walking around her kitchen in her slippers smoking a cigarette and she said, "I don't know.  I'll check my email and get back to you."

Just as I was feeling a little concerned, she added, "My nephew was in a car accident last week and died and my *static-but-I-thought-she-said-cat* is in intensive care at Tufts.  One more thing."

I was so horrified that I was disturbing this woman in her grief that I just started stuttering and saying, "ok, call me when you can."

And she said, "Ok I'll call you Friday" and then I got so discombobulated I just said, "I hope everything is okay with your nephew." and hung up.

And then I said to myself, "Oh My God.  Her nephew DIED it's not going to be ok.  I should have said CAT."

Good to know I'm not any suaver than the last time you saw me, isn't it.

Addiction as Motivation

It's nearly midnight. There are two Diet Cokes left in the house.  They are behind me in the fridge - calling my name - they want to come out and dance with the uneaten cookie sitting here beside me.

It's uneaten because I already ate 7 - that's SEVEN - of it's siblings and I may vomit if I have the 8th.

Of course that's what I said about the 7th and it went down just fine.

ish.

I can't send my husband to the store for Diet Coke.  He won't go.  Or he will but he'll say, "Oh, I thought you meant after lunch.  I didn't know you meant you needed Diet Coke at 8am - JUNKIE."

But we have the beach house this week.  And there is a 12 pack down there in the fridge.  So I could get up, put the kids on the bus, pack up and hit the beach.  I mean WORK FROM THE BEACH.

ish.

I always say that I will go down there on the days we have it - but I rarely do.  It seems ridiculous to pack up to go work there - even someplace as idyllic as the beach.

But tomorrow I may go just because it has cold Diet Coke.

Of course I'll bring the last cookie.

Who says addictions are bad for you?!

Harbinger of Doom

Every day at the bus stop I see a few other moms.  Sometimes after the kids get on the bus we walk around the neighborhood.  They are walking their dogs.  I am just delaying the start to my work day.

Today my neighbor texted me to ask if my 6yo would be willing to walk her dog around the neighborhood.  "Sure!" we said.

(Obviously I wouldn't let her go alone.)

We walked over to pick up the dog.  We got her leash and the "poop bag."

The poop bag is a disgusting concept to a woman 6 years past diaper changing.  But I've walked around the block with this dog several times and she almost never poops.

We started off.

We hadn't gotten 1 house when the dog pooped.  No matter, I picked up the poop, tied off the bag and left it at the top of the driveway (luckily it was my own house.)

We kept walking.

3/4 of the way around the dog pooped again.  I was caught short without a bag.  On a quiet day I would have just left it, gone back to my neighbors house, grabbed another bag and then gone back and gotten it.  But I had a work call in 5 minutes.

So I grabbed a HUGE oak leaf and scooped up the poop.  It was as nauseating as it sounds.

We walked three houses to a house that has two HUGE dogs that often terrorize me when I am running by breaking through their electric fence.  I left the poop in their yard figuring it would drive their dogs NUTS to have interloping poop about and we walked back.

I washed my hands 15 times and had my daughter wash hers twice - even though she never got close to the poop.

Then I jumped on my conference call where I related my poop-woe story to my coworker.

"That's why I have a cat." he said.  "She goes outside to poop and I dont have to deal with it."

"But don't vets yell at you when you tell them that you have an outside cat?" I asked him.

"No." he said.  "Why would they?"

"Because the life expectancy of outside cats is like half the life expectancy of indoor cats." I told him.

"Hm." he said, "I didn't know that.  But the way I look at it is - she's an animal."

We switched topics to work related stuff.  10 minutes after we hung up his cat was attacked and mauled by a dog.

Now I feel like I jinxed him.