Lazy, Negligent, Impressive, and Exciting

Oh, shoot.  I've totally become one of those people who feels the need to apologize in every post for not posting as frequently.  So let's just toss out one big giant sorry that will cover all past and future blog negligence.  We've been busy soaking up the last couple of months of being a family of three, lying around and snugglin', eating too much (but like 75% healthy food, so that's okay, right?), and watching too much TV*.

The most impressive thing that I've done all week (if you don't include whipping up a batch of candied bacon ice cream) was taking down the Christmas stuff.  I think I need to find someone who will do that for pay.  Don't you think that person could make tons of money?  I mean, who actually likes taking down the Christmas stuff?

The most exciting thing that has happened lately was our discovery of the new dog park that the City of Savannah built FIVE BLOCKS away from our house.  I've basically been freaking out about its awesomeness since I found out about it.  There are red decorative fire hydrants, and picnic tables (for humans and for dogs), and there's a water source, and. . .wait for it. . .they are putting in dog pools that are SHAPED LIKE BONES!  I think this dog park has restored my faith in the universe.

The second most exciting thing that has happened lately is that I only gained 2 pounds over Christmas (for serious--I usually gain ten times that over a normal, non-pregnant Christmas holiday) and I passed my sugar test, so I don't have to feel guilty every time I inhale a loaf of bread or eat a 3 lb. serving of macaroni and cheese.  And the boy is looking good in there.  It was a little less exciting to learn that his head is measuring three weeks ahead of schedule (thanks, Matt) (giant head for giant brains?), but good to know that the boy is healthy and happy.

And my favorite friend of Matt's came to visit and now I'm trying to find him a bride (preferably not child or mail-order) and a dog so that he'll be less crotchety (but let's be honest--it's his crotchetiness that makes me love him).

We've got a big ol' exciting weekend ahead of us, so stay tuned for that.  And I think I'm giving myself a March 1 deadline to have the nursery done, so at this rate it'll only be like four blog posts away.

Baby wolf was so tired after dog park fun.

 If you insist on making silly faces, I will put them on the internet.

 Goodbye, old friend.  I will fill this void in my heart with ice cream.

 Why is pot roast so good?

 It makes me feel better about myself to put my Sam's club purchases in bags from hipper, more respectable stores.

 I think they thought they were in a police lineup.

 This man needs a bride.  Any takers?  Also, should he get a husky or a golden retriever (for a dog, not for a bride)?

Mitch loves his brother.  Either that or he is trying to smother him.  Let's hope it's the former.

I totes need to wear a big ol' H on my chest.  I have hated these 4-d ultrasounds every time I've seen one because I think they are scary and terrifying.  But when our sassy ultrasound lady flipped it into 4-d mode (which I didn't even know she could do), I was mesmerized.  Also, I think he is about to nibble on his toenails.  And Chloe says he is melting.


What was the most impressive or exciting thing that's happened to you all week?  And did it involve a pool shaped like a bone?


*I don't know about you, but here at M Cubed we LOVE presidential election time.  The Republican primaries have been especially entertaining, though they have caused a little bit of division in our home.  Mitch, our staunch Tea Partier, was devastated when Michele Barkman dropped out of the race.  It was almost as sad as when his previous favorite, Herman Canine, dropped out.  Now he's all about Ron Paw.  Matt and I were rooting for any of those, or just for Jon Huntsman--the others because their craziness was sure to lose the GOP the general election, and Huntsman for his actual brains and raw good looks.

Hey There!

Pssssht.  Last week was hard.  After a full week off for Thanksgiving, I returned to the harsh reality that, well, work is hard.  And kids are annoying right before Christmas.  And accreditation years at school are their own personal hell.  It was one of those weeks where I had to groan and pout and peel myself out of bed each morning, and where the only thing I wanted to do when I got home was take a coma nap.  So that's what happened.  There were coma naps and that was about it.

But this weekend brought with it returned motivation, a can-do attitude, and enough energy for me to become, (as Cassie always puts it and I always want to steal, but then I don't want to steal because then I'm a big fat stealer) "a whirling dervish of productivity."  And then I was feeling back on top of the world.  While the Christmas tasks aren't even close to being done, the miserable school tasks are well on their way--or at least enough on their way that I don't have to worry about them when I exit my classroom.

I'm so happy right now.  Happy that we have 1 1/2 episodes of Boardwalk Empire to catch up on, that my Christmas cards are ordered (and that I didn't have to pay anything for them because I won a $100 Shutterfly credit earlier this year!), happy that maybe--just maybe!--Newt Gingrich will be the Republican nominee, and happy that there's a big bowl of peppermint marshmallows just waiting for me to go ellipt so that I can eat them up without feeling guilty.  I'm happy that I get to read one of my faves, The Great Gatsby, with my juniors twice every day, and I'm happy that after nine more school days I won't have to see those same juniors for a while.  I'm happy that we're getting our tree this week and that I get to make my house into a really busy, super tacky, a little bit white-trash winter wonderland.  And I'm happy that I get to share this fun Christmas season with the cutest dog ever and the best husband ever and an active little fetus who's been going all Michael Flatley* on my insides today.

Here's what it's been looking like around here.

 Mitch needed to help load the refrigerator with beer.

 And tell Matt a very funny secret.

 This is how far I am with Christmas decorating.

 Cupcakes for a baby shower!  You probably forgot that I'm basically a professional baker.

 Pup was feeling a little down this weekend, which was probably more upsetting to Matt and me than it was to him.

 Talking to Shecky on speakerphone during ellipting.  It's kind of awesome.

 Peppermint creamy goodness.

 Human child has some work to do if he's going to be cuter than his brother.

 This totes could have been our Christmas card photo--you know, if Mitch didn't look like he had rabies and I didn't look like a ghost.  Oh well.

Soul. Mates.  

Happy week to you!  May it be full of marshmallows and Nucky Thompson.  And dogs.  Always dogs.

*His legs flail about as though independent of his body!

Vote for Charity: A Post from Mitch

Hey, y'all, it's me, Mitch.  I haven't really been here lately because I've been on snugglin' duty with mom.  She's pregnant for the second time.  The first was when she was about to have me.

Okay, well, that's a little story we tell in our family.  But it's time for me to come clean with you.  You see, I am not born of woman.  I'm actually born of dog, and when I was a tiny puppy the humans who owned that dog who had me took me and all of my biological brothers and sisters to the Humane Society, where my mom and dad found me and I charmed them with my lopsided ears and by chewing on my mom's jacket.  The Humane Society was actually pretty nice (and sometimes when I'm being super annoying my mom and dad say that they're going to take me back there, but I know that's just a joke), and the cool people there took care of me and all of the other dogs.

There's only two things I could say bad about the Savannah Humane Society.

1.  They named me Chico.
2.  They also love cats.

But in everything else, they're the bee's knees!  They even have a thrift store upstairs where I like to donate all of my used toys and collars and where sometimes I'll go buy some stuff.

And I just found out from my Aunt Cassie last night that the Savannah Humane Society is in a contest to win $100,000, and we're currently in first place.  Now, here's what I need you to do.  Vote.   It's super easy, and all you have to do is enter your email address and then verify that your email is real.  I mean, just think of all of the bones and treats and collars and beds that the Humane Society could provide to other dogs. . .and, fine, cats too. . .if they had that kind of cash.

So go vote.  Do it for all of the Mitchell Pancakes and Henry Parkers (I can swallow my hatred of cats for a hot minute if it means helping lots of dogs--plus, Henry's my cousin and I kind of respect him because he has to live with Fletcher.)

You can vote once a day from now until Halloween.  So what are you waiting for?

Click here to vote for the Greater Savannah Humane Society.

Don't make me get up in your face and bark.

Serve and Protect, My Ass

Our dryer broke again, which meant that I had to call a guy to repair it.  The repair guy happened to be African American, which sent my racist dog into a 2-hour long frenzy.  The dryer guy laughed and said "serve and protect, huh?" to which I just uncomfortably giggled, completely embarrassed by my bigot of a dog.

He is a Tea Party republican, after all.

Later that night, while Mitch was outside lying in his dirt spot, an evil murdering tree frog broke into our house.  I saw it on the door frame and thought that it was a leaf or something, so I tried to rub it off with my toe.  And then when the frog jumped on my foot, into the kitchen, and began to crawl up my refrigerator with its long murderin' poison legs, I screamed like I'd just seen the Trinity killer in my bathroom.  I screamed and screamed some more as the frog decided to stalk me from between the refrigerator and freezer doors.  It even whispered "You're gonna die, lady" in a scary Southern accent.

What did the dog do?  Did he hear his mother, the woman who birthed him from her body, screaming hysterically and facing death and then run to her rescue?  Did he kill the frog?  Did he call the police?  Did he even bother to get up out of his dirt spot?

No.

Serve and protect, my ass.

War Dogs: A Post from Mitch

Hey, y'all.  It's me, Mitch.  Well, I've been so lazy about blogging lately.  I don't really know what's gotten into me.  I mean, maybe my Aunt Cassie has been rubbing off on me, or maybe I'm just turning into a cat.

Actually, I'm totally not turning into a cat, y'all, because that would be like the worst thing.  I mean, have you ever met a cat?  They are so mean and have such sharp claws!  One time this cat came in the house because my mom thought that I wanted a cat brother and then I tried to play chase with it and I ran into a chair that ran into the Christmas tree and a bunch of ornaments fell off and my mom was sooooooo mad.  And I was all, "I mean, why'd you bring a cat in here?  Cats are such jerks."  And they're lazy, too.  

Anyway, not that much has been going on with me here.  I've basically just been keeping my mom company while she takes really, really long naps.  Naps that are so long that even I--a dog!--am like, "Whoa, shouldn't we be doing something with our lives?"  But we have been watching a lot of the Air Bud movies (I mean, have you SEEN Seventh Inning Fetch?  If you haven't, then you're really missing out on an important part of American cinema.)

And, as you may know, I recently turned seven, which was a little bit of a crisis for me.  I mean, seven?  That's like, old, y'all.  And, to be honest, I don't feel a day over two.

And then I look around at all of these other dogs (Air Bud aside) who are really doing something with their lives.  I mean, there's Bo, who's working on foreign relations.  And there are those dogs who go to my mom's school to smell for drugs and cell phones.  And what about the dogs who can smell for cancer?  I totally should've learned to do that.  And did you know that there was a dog on the super secret Osama bin Laden capture/kill mission?  I mean, is there anything cooler than being able to say that you were the dog who sniffed that a-hole out?  Um, I'm also have reason to believe that it was the dog who killed him.  But that's classified information and I've already told you too much.

I totally should've joined the army when I had the chance, y'all.  Look how cool it is!

 [source]

 [source]

 [source]

Oh, what?  They fire guns?  Those loud boom guns?  And they don't get to sit on couches or sleep in the big bed?  Do they at least get to pre-wash all of the dishes after dinner?  No?  Well, that's some bull jive, y'all.

Nevermind.  Scratch that whole army business.  If you need me, I'll be lying in the guest bed with my mom watching Air Bud: Spikes Back.  Or maybe Golden Receiver.  I've seen Spikes Back like 30 times already.

A Day in the Life: A Post from Mitch

Oh, hey y'all.  It's me, Mitch.  Well, this is just a crazy time of year, isn't it?  I don't know about you, but this time change thing has really thrown off my schedule, and I've felt so behind in my work lately!  (I've been wearing the tie collar a lot, which means that I've been doing reports, crunching numbers, you know, the usual.) 

And now the holidays are upon us!  Goodness gracious, where has the time gone?  It seems like just yesterday that I was sunning myself on the dock at my grandparents' lake house, trying to keep Fletcher from punching me in the face, and now here we are just a few days from celebrating Thanksgiving with my Aunt Cassie and Uncle Hugh, where I will, among other things, try to keep Fletcher from punching me in the face.

Wouldn't you agree that there's just so much to be grateful for, too?  I mean, there's collars, and jingle, and bones, and couches, and pillows, and ropes.  There's plates full of meat juice and bacon and yogurt-covered pretzels and Kongs.  And there are mom and dads and Reillys and dirt spots.  I mean, what more could a dog want?  (A lake.  That's what.  Hear that, Mom and Dad?)

Well, the real reason that I've decided to take time out of my busy schedule to blog is because I've been reading some really neat posts about people's everyday schedules.  "Day in the Life" posts, I think people call them.  Call me a voyeur, but I just adore hearing about what people do in their seemingly boring, everyday lives.  I'd thought I'd give you a little treat today, y'all, and fill you in on what I do on the average day. 

Okay, so first I have to wake up.  I hate waking up.  I mean, the big bed is so soft and cuddly, and I love lying in between my mom and dad.  But after Mama's alarm goes off for ONE WHOLE HOUR, we get up, and I go outside.  I didn't take any pictures of me doin' my business, because I'm a Southern gentledog.

After that, I stretch.

And I beg for some breakfast.

After that, my mom goes to work, and I go get back in the big bed with my dad.  If there's one thing you should know about our family, it's that we love to sleep.  I mean, we like REALLY REALLY love to sleep.

Well, after Dad goes to work, I usually move out to the living room, where I look out the window and hold the fort down.  I bark at any passersby, and I bark at all cats, and I make sure that nobody disturbs our house.  I especially look out for burglars.  I mean, do you know how many toys I have?  Yeah, they're insured, but still. . .

That goes on for a few hours until Mama comes home, at which point I jump on her and give her lots of kisses.  I tell her about what an asshole the mailman is and ask her if I can please--pretty please--bite him and then she says no and then I go outside.  While outside, I look out for rabid squirrels and birds.

I mean, you have to look out for woodland creatures who have rabies, because if you don't, they'll give you rabies, and then this guy Atticus will have to come and shoot you.  It's true; I read it in a book.

Well, after I know that the coast is clear and there are no rabid attack animals anywhere around, and Mama is  home to guard the house, I can finally relax in my dirt spot. 

I mean, I can lie in my dirt spot for hours.  Sometimes I do, too.  Especially when Dad is watching football.  He yells and claps and stomps and really scares me (maybe Dad has rabies?), so I prefer to spend large chunks of my Saturdays and Sundays out here.  Sometimes the moles come up from underneath and tickle my dog belly.  That's my favorite part.

Now, if it's too hot or too cold or raining or just too wet from rain, I'll relax in the house in my second-favorite spot, the couch.  My Grandma Sue got me this couch.  She's so nice. 

Usually after I've relaxed, I'll try to convince my mom to bake something for me.  I love it when she makes homemade dog treats, but I really really love it when she makes vanilla bean cupcakes.

(Oh man, this one time my mom made those cupcakes for my dad's birthday, and I ate like six of them and buried one in the big bed.  She was SO mad.)

Anyway, then I go back to the couch.

And then I go look out the window to see if my dad is home yet.

And then he gets home!  Oh man, I'm always so happy when my dad gets home.  He makes everything more exciting (because usually at that point my mom is already napping and she's nice and cuddly when she naps, but she's not terribly exciting). 

Then I go show off in the back yard by jumping around like a damned fool and barking at sticks.  My mom and dad eat it up.

And then I go inside and kiss my dad as much as I possibly can.

And then I'm usually pretty tired, so I go take another nap.  This time I might switch it up and lie on the floor.

When my mom and dad make dinner, I try to help them out by begging for cheese or other tasty bites.

After we eat I go back to the couch.

And then we all relax and watch TV and movies and stuff (I usually lobby to get us to watch any one of the movies from the Air Bud franchise).  I like to joke around with my dad while we watch stuff.  It kind of annoys him.  Sometimes we argue about politics.  My mom and dad are democrats, and I'm a member of the Tea Party.  (Go Glen Bark!)

Sometimes we all go outside to the carport and talk, and I will get my dad to hold me.  I know I'm a big dog, but big dogs love to be held, too.

And after that, I wait outside the bathroom door while my mom takes a shower, and then it's right back to the big bed for night night. 

So that's my daily routine.  What's yours?