If You Look Cute, They Will Come....

PROJECT PHOTO #3.....

Monsieur Dimples and our new friend.  Yet another dog that has decided that we look like a bushel of groovy peeps, but will probably run away or "disappear" after sucking our hearts of our love and affection.  Because apparently we were short-sheeted our pet*maintanence*gene. 
Even still...we've named this one BERNARD. 
Now placing bets on how long Bernie will stick around.....

Do I hear a "Gone by morning?"  Anyone? 



Happy Uber-Busy Summer

Jim-Dad asked me last night when I was going to blog again.  As if I'd forgone this sport forever. 

Not so, Jim-Dad, not so.

I have lost my bloggy virginity, however, and come to the realization that I, in fact, can not only go to sleep at night without first turning out a post and scheduling another, but that the world does not stop spinning and planets do not implode if I, for some reason, go a day or ten without reading other people's posts.  It was a long hard road of many a late night before I reached such blogger maturity, but I'm so glad I've arrived.  Liberating, really.  So now this bloggy habit of mine is just a hobby....not my slave-driver.  With cyber whip in hand. 

That being said, I actually do have really good excuses for not having shown my face around these parts for eleventy hundred and twelve a few days. 

1.  For starters, there is a new rascal around these parts.  He's of the four-legged variety and is the cutest darned thing I've ever seen.  He showed up one day and decided that we'd make a swell of a family (he obviously hadn't been hanging around the poochie water cooler or he'd know about us), and we decided that he wasn't too bad himself.  The bigger boys named him "Lucky," but Tate and I are still lobbying for "Goober."  We just look like a Goober kinda family.

Notice:  If you are from around these parts, and Lucky looks familiar...too bad.  He's decided that he likes us better than you.  *wink*

2.  I've been swallowed whole, regurgitated (you're welcome), and swallowed whole again by forever'lovin' baseball.  I have always said that it was a good thing that the Lord gave me boys because I wouldn't have the foggiest idea about what to do inside a ballet studio or a cheerleading gym, but, by golly, now I'm beginning to think that it was some cruel joke played on me by the Maker.  Because I guarantee that a dance studio at least has air conditioning.  These 100* Arkansas days do nothing for me and my tendencies to resemble (in looks and in smell) a drenched sloppy pig once it reaches over a balmy 75*.  

2A.  All three boys finished up their regular seasons of baseball, and now we've moved on to All-Star Tournament baseball.  Sawyer was selected for the All-Star team for our town which is a huge honor, but it just brings daily practices and a whole lot of sweat.  I'm trying to remember what an honor it is as I sit on the bleachers at 8:00 at night and not on my couch watching all my summer tv shows.  

2B.  While Sawyer is busy slaving away on the fields, the other two boys are busy pouting.  Because their baseball is over and now the family revolves around Sawyer.  I tried to reassure them by letting them know that now they would have plenty of time to help me with the laundry.... They didn't bite.

3.  The boys have started the summer of Vacation Bible School rounds.  Yes, we're one of THOSE families.  You better believe that we check-in at every.single. VBS around town.  Because those are 3 hours a day for mama to have to herself.  Scandalous attitude, I know.  But I just look at it as the church ministering to our whole family, which I'm deeply appreciative for.  Oh, and there is that learning about Jesus thing. 

4.  I'm busy Spring Cleaning.  In the summer.  The dust bunnies had started talking back to me, and our feet were sticking to the floors.  See this?

That's a picture of a clean tile floor.  That I scrubbed Cinderelly style.  On my hands and knees.  And now my family is being forced to eat and drink all manner of anything outside.  Because they will lose their heads if they even so much as breathe on that floor.  You think I'm kidding.

5.  We've been swimming a couple of times this summer, but our usual summer stomping ground of the waterpark raised their prices this year, so now you have to sell plasma at the front gate before entering.  So it looks like the lake will be our swimming pool this summer.  Don't get me wrong, I love the lake...but I can only handle so much sand in my car and unmentionables, and the smelling like a fish everyday isn't very ladylike either.  I did take out a second mortgage on the house the other day to take the boys to the waterpark, but it just made me sad that we can't live there like we did last summer. 

See?  Just busy.busy.busy.  Not sure why people call summers vacation time, when people tend to be busier now more than ever, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.  Summer really is my most favorite time of year. 

So if you don't hear from me for awhile, I'm probably just out with my family.  Or scrubbing a floor (probably not).  Or passed out from heat stroke at the baseball field.

Good times.

And Happy Uber-Busy Summer to you!!

Words of Wisdom Regarding Woofers

I read the books of Proverbs today.

Because I was sure that there had to be a verse in there somewhere that dealt with the foolishness of people who do foolish things regarding pets.  (What with all the foolishness that Solomon speaks of and all.)

Maybe something like:

Those who send back perfect canines will be considered fools.

Or...

Foolish is she who rejects the perfect pooch.

I was looking, because I think I might just have made the most foolish mistake in pet ownership history.

Because today......I sent Lunabelle back. 

That dog didn't jump on my furniture.  She didn't eat my shoes.  She didn't use my floor as a latrine.  She didn't bark.  She didn't whine.  She shook hands.  She sat when you told her to. 

She really was THAT good.

And I sent her back.

Foolish is she who rejects the perfect pooch.

But as perfect as she was, she just didn't jive with our rough and rowdy bunch.  Mainly because....well....she wasn't rough and rowdy.

You see, the ONLY problem with Miss Lunabelle is that Miss Lunabelle doesn't like to play.

And in our house....playing (or at least pretending to play) is a requirement. 

Lunabelle didn't even fake on the playin' side.  She just walked around, laid around, and laid around some more.

And this morning in our family meeting that was held to make the big decision on adoption or not, all three boys along with their mama and their daddy admitted reservations.

And any reservation is enough reservation for me.  Because I'm not going to house a new family member if she isn't going to pull her weight.  Just sayin'.

It really all boiled down to us realizing that even though she was on all accounts PERFECT...she wasn't perfect for us.

And so we are back to square one with the dog hunt. 

And we are trusting fully that our dog is out there.  A dog that fits our family like a glove.  That plays with the kids and doesn't eat my shoes.  That is fun but not filthy. 

And so we will keep looking.

And I will keep listening to all of you tell me that I have done lost my ever-lovin' mind. 

Go on.  Hit me with your best shot.

I'm ready.

We're Pregnant!! (Totally thought I could type that with a straight face.)

I forgot to take my Prozac yesterday.

And again this morning.

So I'm blaming my momentary loss of brain function and rational thinking on the absence of the drugs that keep me sane.

Because I just might have jumped off of this huge ledge and adopted a dog today.

Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Willus?

Yep.  I feel the same way.  Only I'm finding out that I'm kinda okay with the idea.  Strangely enough.  Actually a little excited.

This is how it all went down....

Our big ole outside dog has been gone for awhile now.  And our family was missing Ozzie something fierce.  Especially Mr. Animal Planet, Keaton.  Like snot and tears in the dentist office waiting room.  And in the store.  And in the car. And during dinner. And.And.And.

And somehow I decided (with a lot of his help, mind you) that having a new dog might ease our sadness a bit and help us get over the hump. 

So we headed over to the Humane Society to check out the local doggies.  Keaton has watched enough Animal Planet to be brainwashed very wisely know that there are millions of dogs that need good homes in shelters all over the U.S. (it is possible that I've heard this speech a time or two), so buying one was out of the question. 

We met several dogs.

There was this rowdy playful puppy that looked just like Sawyer.  Red hair and everything.  But he looked like he would eat my shoes in 3.4 seconds.  So we moved on.

There were 243,583,323 (give or take a few) big ole outside dogs.  No thank you.  Been there. Done that.  Had the teeshirt, but the rowdy pups we've had before ate it.

There was a precious little dog named Nikki that had just had hip surgery.  And she was as sweet as she could be, but we don't have the $1200 that Miss Nikki needs for the hip specialist that they were requiring her to see. Wowzers.

And then there was Lunabelle.  Well, actually there was Luna.  But we've renamed her.  Because I need more girly sounding business up in here.  (And props to Lunabelle's Auntie Tiff for naming her!)

A sweet looking mutt.  That's it.  Just a mutt.

But the most precious looking mutt I've ever seen.

According to the lady working at the shelter:  Lunabelle's family had to move; she's potty-trained; she never barks; and is a great inside dog.

And then I asked the lady what the catch was.  Because surely there was a catch.

Um. No.

Except that when we were at the shelter for our introduction, she peed 3 times and pooped once in the room.  Not exactly a great first impression.

Maybe it was just nerves.  Because everyone gets a little nervous when they are on an interview, right?

I signed the papers for a foster night with Lunabelle, and we brought her home for a test drive. 

And so far.....she's on go.

She hasn't peed on my new floors.  Score.
She hasn't barked once.  Score.
She already knows how to sit and shake.  Score.
She has lovely table manners.  Score.
She hasn't licked me in my face.  Score.
She stays off my new furniture. Score.
And she likes to watch television.  Score. 

I think we're going to get along just fine.

Welcome to the family, Lunabelle! 

(Unless you eat my shoes...and then you're outie!)