It's Gonna Be A Glorious Day I Feel My Luck Could Change

We're only one day into the month and already June is way more awesome than May. You see, I was feeling very mopey and unlucky after the finger-vs-knife incident and then last night happened.

Last night my parents came over for dinner and we decided to walk the dogs. I was holding Stella's leash and my dad had Wolfgang's leash, when the puppies spotted another dog a few blocks ahead of us. When Stella encounters another dog, she gets a bit excited and wants to sniff and play. When Wolfgang encounters another dog, he gets territorial and protective of me. He's not aggressive at all but he does bark quite a bit. As soon as the other dog is within sniffing distance, Wolfgang turns into the perfect gentleman and wags his tail and is quite happy to play with the other dog, it's just the initial encounter that makes him unsure and shouty.

So. Last night the dogs spot the other dog and Wolfgang got all barky and loud so we stopped walking. My dad bent down to shush Wolfgang and Wolfgang got all squirmy and somehow the combination of a taut leash and a twisty puppy resulted in Wolfgang managing to ninja his way out of his harness. He didn't even hesitate; he took off running (across 4 lanes of traffic) after the other dog, who by this time was long gone. My brain was still processing what happened when my dad took off running (across 4 lanes of traffic) after him.

Here's the thing, I know what you're supposed to do in this situation. I know that running away from your dog prompts your dog to chase you, so if you run away from the danger the theory is that your dog will follow you to safety. But last night, in the heat of the moment, my thought process was pretty much this: "Puppy. In traffic. Dad. In traffic." And repeat.

So I stood there, frozen, until Wolfgang realized that I wasn't following him (his territorial / protective nature means that he doesn't want to be too far from me - no really, this is a dog that will whine at the bathroom door until I open it) and stopped. And then ran back towards me (across 4 lanes of traffic.) I managed to grab him as he ran past me and the whole thing was over in under a minute.

I feel so lucky. My dad, bless his heart, didn't even look before running into the street and Wolfgang still looks like this:

instead of, you know, flatter. I feel very lucky, indeed.

I Once Thought That Time Accentuates Despair But Now I Don't Actually Care

For the last week or so I have felt blue. I have been grumpy and snide and sad and just ... blah. Blah describes very well how I have been feeling. Vancouver can be a difficult place to live when your mood is strongly affected by the weather. Endless rain and grey skies make me want to curl up in bed with the puppies and refuse to face the world until I see a glimmer of sunshine peeking around the curtain.

The sun is shining today. Blue skies and sunshine, Doodle Jump, animal crackers and string cheese for lunch (because apparently I am five years old), the Threadless $10 tee sale, playing with my mustache keychains and having a mustache epiphany (details to come once my shop has been updated), finding the perfect shade of grey-ish / beige-ish nail polish, and the new Athlete album, are all putting a smile on my face. The sun is shining today and I am happy.

I've decided to stop grumbling about the $300 insurance deductible we have to pay to get the car fixed because $300 doesn't matter as long as Shawn is okay. I'm not going to complain about the mother-effing cherry blossoms and the nosebleeds and itchy eyes they cause. I won't even rant about how Wolfgang gets all riled up playing with Stella and then drinks a bunch of water too quickly and then barfs (always on non-wipeable surfaces) at least once a week. No grumbling, no ranting, only sunshine and blue skies today. Unless Wolfgang vomits on my bed again tonight like he did last night. And the night before.

In The Sky When You Parachute Over The Harbour

Friday Faff: An Explanation of Sorts

I love the taste of coffee. I love the smell of coffee. I love the first sip of my first coffee of the day. I love taking a break from a stressful situation at work and making a coffee. I love coffee. Period.

What I don't love, is needing coffee. Every once in a while I start to feel a bit itchy about my love for coffee. Do I really just love the taste? Or do I need coffee to get me through the day? Am I okay with needing coffee to get me through the day? So I give it up. Not for long; I've never lasted as long as I have this time and I haven't even reached two weeks yet. I stop drinking coffee and tea and pop and all things caffeiney, and replace it with hot water with lemon and honey and the occasional hot chocolate (please don't make me define "occasional" - let me have this delusion.) I'm not sure there's any point to my self-imposed coffee ban. I get headaches and I bitch and moan and I always go back to drinking the sweet nectar of the gods. I think it's more an experiment to see if I can do it. If I can give up coffee for 11 days (11 loooong days) it must mean that I don't need it, right?

* * * * *

Wolfgang has to go to the vet tonight for his booster shots and I have been dreading it all week. He is a wily little guy and it usually takes three or four people to administer the shot. I'm paranoid that the vet is going to miss because of Wolfgang's thrashing and will stick me accidentally. Also, Wolfgang stress-farts. It's embarrassing (also, stinky.) Wish us luck!

* * * * *

Day 5 of my month of photos:

Vancouver Lookout at Harbour Centre. The glass-walled elevator travels up the track on the outside of the building to the 360-degree observation deck 430 feet above the street. I've never been to the Lookout but there is a salad bar on the ground floor level of Harbour Centre that I sometimes frequent.

So Be My Devil Angel Be My Shooting Star

Wolfgang can't pull off "angelic"

More realistic

Oh the shame

Just Beat It Beat It Beat It Beat It No One Wants To Be Defeated - Take 9

Friday Faff: Birthdays and Burgers and Beets Edition

* * * * *

So, uhh, this is awkward. It turns out that Wolfgang's birthday isn't until next Tuesday. Yet another reason why I should stick to fur-babies.

* * * * *

Thank you for all your road trip suggestions! I am kind of ridiculously excited to eat at In-n-Out Burger. Shawn and I ate dinner at Fatburger the night we got engaged. We served burgers at our wedding. We are burger people, is what I'm saying. All the other road trip stuff is great too, don't get me wrong, but what I'm really looking forward to is the food. I'm going to shop at Trader Joe's! I'm going to drink lemonade at Sonic!! I am lame, I know.

* * * * *

So I ate my stupid September beets. Enough people suggested pickled beets that I figured they must be something special. Pickled beets are ... fine. The vinegar taste was quite strong, which masked the taste of the beets nicely. The problem was the cleanliness (and my craziness.) I bought a jar of pickled whole baby beets, which I assumed would be peeled. They were not peeled. I could see beet skin on some of the beets and they all had the top rooty bit attached. It was too much for me to handle so I used a paring knife to peel off the entire outer skin. I ended up with tiny little beet nuggets:


I served the beets on a salad, with a side of barbecued chicken and grilled zucchini. Who's in denial that summer is over? Not I.

* * * * *

Have a great weekend, peeps!

I Smell Like I Sound I'm Lost And I'm Found And I'm Hungry Like The Wolf

Happy birthday to Wolfgang, my little buddy, my monkey man, the tyrant, the terror, the rebel, the pest from the west, the babe of our family.

It doesn't seem like that long ago that he was a tiny little ball of fluff.

Happy first birthday, dude!

PS: Stop eating your bed or I will turn you into fuzzy slippers. I mean it.

I'll Stop The World And Melt With You

. . . and then my heart melted.

And I Can Throw A Volkswagon A Whole Half Block

I went to a car show last weekend with Shawn because being married to Shawn sometimes means doing stupid shit that I don't care about. It's okay though, because this week Shawn is going to learn that being married to me sometimes means going to see The Time Traveller's Wife.

Anyway. The car show. The main reason I went was that Shawn's band played a few sets. I love watching Shawn rock out. I'm a bit of a groupie, I won't lie.


The dogs did not behave at the car show. Wolfgang barked at every single dog we encountered and Stella tried to roll in every stinky thing she could find.

Bringing the dogs was worth it though, if only because I managed to get what is possibly my favourite photo of Wolfgang ever:

He's cruisin' in his V-dub, yo.

I'll Kill Him With Karate That I Learned In Japan

The heat has officially left Vancouver and today is a gloomy, rainy Monday. That - and the limited sleep I got this weekend - has left me in a Friday Faff kind of mood.

* * * * *

Thank you for all your kind comments on my anniversary post. We had a great first anniversary. To kick things off, Shawn's Mom made us a fabulous barbecue dinner. On our actual anniversary, we had dinner at the Irish Pub where we got married and then went to the beach and ate cupcakes from the bakery where we got our wedding cupcakes. The next night, my mom and dad made us dinner. It was a bit odd - we were not expecting our families to participate in the anniversary celebrations - but very nice.

* * * * *

Shawn wants to shave Wolfgang's mohawk. I hid the clippers. It's a battle of wills.

* * * * *

I have decided not to part ways with my t-shirt collection. To celebrate, I wore this shirt to work on Friday:

* * * * *

I spent three hours at a farmers' market with my mom yesterday. Three hours is far too long to spend at a farmers' market, especially when you keep finding treats that you have to have. I came home with: ten pounds of blueberries, a giant bag of bell peppers, organic dog treats, paw balm for Wolfgang's cracked paws, a huge loaf of organic seed bread, a bottle of dried garlic, locally grown beets, and an awesome birthday present for Turtle that I can't reveal because she reads this blog. I could have spent hundreds of dollars. I am officially grounded from farmers' markets.

* * * * *

So. The reason I didn't get much sleep this weekend. I started taking karate (is it bad that I can't help but say it "kara-tay" like Ross?) My first class was Saturday morning and I spent the rest of the weekend in agony. My muscles HATE ME right now. I woke up at 4am on Sunday, writhing in pain from ROLLING OVER. I have the opportunity to go three times a week but I think I'm going to start off with once a week. At least until I stop wanting to die after each class.

Held My Heart Deep In Hair Time To Shave Shave It Off

Last week, Great Vancouver experienced record-breaking heat. BC generally has a mild climate. Last week? NOT SO MILD. Vancouver recorded its hottest day in city history on Wednesday ... and then broke that record on Thursday.

In BC, the average home does not have an air-conditioner. We have two fans, which helped a lot, but our condo was still like a sauna. Every day we would shut the windows and blinds, direct a fan onto each of the puppies' crates, and leave them a bowl of water; and every day we would come home to two miserable puppies.

So I shaved Wolfgang.

He wouldn't let me do his legs much, and he was pretty pissed whenever I tried to get near his head, so he's looking a bit disproportionate.

Bobblehead!

The mohawk he's rocking is pretty fucking sweet, though.

Like A Tomato In The Rain I've Got That Feeling Again

Tuesday Randomness

I made a cake with the raspberries and blueberries.

Two cakes, really. They turned out really well but I think I'll use more berries next time.

* * * * *

I left my pyjama top on Wolfgang's (wire) crate. Later, I saw that he had pulled it into his crate. I thought it was adorable that my puppy wanted to cuddle something that smelled like me.

Please note the gaping hole. He did not just chew my top, he ate it. Like, tried to digest it. AND FAILED. Meaning, he later pooped my top.

* * * * *

If you haven't already, head on over to Hair Thursday and vote. It's pretty even right now (45% - 55%) so I'm still torn. Come on peeps, make my important decisions for me!

* * * * *

I think I'm going crazy.

Shawn and I have started looking online for potential condos. I have all of a sudden developed a fear of heights. I've never been great with heights. I have never loved heights. But I've never feared them to this degree.

I have refused to consider anything above the ninth floor. I am almost to the point of refusing to look at lofts because the thought of having a railing that I could potentially fall over is making it hard to breathe. It's bizarre. I don't know where this is coming from. Shawn showed me a 26th floor condo yesterday and I got this horrible, itchy feeling all over. It had a balcony! A 26th floor balcony! Madness!

Also, I have developed a severe hatred of tomatoes.

I have always loved tomatoes. My list of hated vegetables has always been short and unchanging: beets and mushrooms. That's it. I like a wide variety of vegetables and can fake it with most others. But lately I have been repulsed by tomatoes. If I could think of a stronger word than repulsed, I would use it. That is how much I dislike tomatoes now.

It doesn't make sense. I have not had a bad experience with a tomato. I didn't bite into a bad tomato. I did not find any worms in a tomato. I did not read an article stating that tomatoes cause cancer. And yet ... the thought of eating a tomato makes my heart beat really fast and my mind race. "How can I get out of eating this tomato? Why the fuck do I want to avoid tomatoes?"

You see? Crazy.

* * * * *

Because I need to end this post with something other than my insanity ... puppies!

This blanket is usually draped over Wolfgang's crate because he doesn't sleep unless it's pitch black. It has been much too hot for that lately (I woke up one morning and his crate was like a little sauna) so the blanket has been moved to a chair. The puppies? LOVE IT.

So now the blanket has to stay on the chair because it's the only place the puppies will chill out and be nice to each other.

The Butterflies Are Passive Aggressive And Put Their Problems On The Shelf But They're Beautiful

So how did the puppies do with day one of our new, stricter regime?

I was in the bedroom with Stella last night when Shawn came storming in holding Wolfgang. Shawn threw him into his crate and slammed the door and it wasn't until he turned around that I saw the giant pee mark on his jeans.

Shawn was sitting on the couch and Wolfgang came over for what Shawn thought was a cuddle. Oh no, it was no cuddle. Wolfgang urinated all over Shawn. Shawn jumped up and Wolfgang continued to pee all over the couch and floor. 

So, uhh .... anyone want a free puppy?

These Blue Shoes Seem To Suit Me Well

My parents came over for dinner last night to celebrate their 37th wedding anniversary (37? In a row?) (Bonus points to anyone who can identify the movie that quote came from.)

We were sitting at the table while the puppies played on the couch. I thought they were chewing their bones until I heard a very distinctive ripping sound. I jumped up, convinced they had just destroyed the couch. My heart sank even lower when I realized they weren't chewing the couch, they were chewing one of my mom's shoes. The shoe was still identifiable as a shoe but there was no way to salvage it. They mutilated the shoe.

Stella has always been a fan of shoes. We constantly find her trying to get into the closet. If we accidentally leave the door open, she will instantly stick her head in and grab a few shoes. She doesn't chew them, though. She gums them a bit but mainly just likes to cuddle them. We think she likes the smell (because she usually goes for Shawn's workout runners or my ballerina flats or other shoes we wear while sockless.)

It looks like we have become a little too complacent when it comes to training the puppies. That changes today. Today the puppies will start boot camp. Today the puppies will embark on their journey to become less horrid. No longer will Stella's wrinkly brow or Wolfgang's old-man eyebrows get them out of trouble.

I am officially immune to this:

and this:

and these:
I won't lie; I am likely not immune to this:

I Want To Love You Pretty Young Thing

This week I:

- laughed hysterically while Stella pulled Wolfgang around the kitchen on my housecoat. 

- cried when: Jon & Kate announced their separation (and I'd never even seen one episode before Monday); my awesome mom made me three pots of homemade soup on three separate occasions (2 pots of cream of cauliflower and 1 pot of chicken / spinach, if you're wondering); I had blood taken and the nurse couldn't find my vein; I realized that I accidentally bought light ice cream instead of the good stuff; heard the news about Michael Jackson.

- spent far too much time with the puppies.

- realized that Wolfgang is the most annoying puppy in the world.  

This is why Wolfgang makes me stabby:

Wolfgang tells me where to go from Hillary W on Vimeo.

That's all I've got. I'm still sick. Still bored. Still ... stabby. Happy Friday, lovelies! 

I Think I Got Something In My Teeth Could You Get It Out For Me? That's Effing Teamwork!

Last week Ben posted a review of the Flappy on Who's Your Daschund. I scoffed - scoffed! - at his claim that the Tuffy Flappy could withstand a week with his pups.

I had to see for myself.

Things started off well. Wolfgang loves his Flappy.

I bought two of the same-sized Tuffies so the pups wouldn't have Flappy envy.

The problem is that nothing tastes better than someone else's Flappy.

Please note the sad, lonely Flappy that has been forgotten by Wolfgang. Clearly it does not taste as good as Stella's Flappy.

Wolfgang is fighting a losing battle.

Tug of war!

The shenanigans were resolved when the pups realized that they could both chew on one Flappy without getting in each other's way.

Overall I'm pretty impressed with the Flappy. The pups had a lot of fun, the squeaker was less obnoxious than other toys we've tried in the past, and neither puppy managed to destroy it. The Flappy isn't a toy that I'd leave with the pups in their crates (Stella has managed to chew the ends off the flappy bits and I'm confident that given a few hours alone with the Flappy she'd manage to chew through the middle bit) but it's definitely a toy I'll let them play with when they're out of their crates. Every toy we've tried with the pups has been ruined (by Stella) on the day we brought it home. I'm not exaggerating when I say that the pups each have one toy - the Nylabone Galileo Bone "designed specifically for powerful chewers" - so I'm very excited to have found another toy tough enough to prevail against Stella's earnest attempt at destruction.

Oh It's You Again Listen This Isn't A Reunion So Sorry If I Turn My Head

While we were away, Stella stayed with my parents and Wolfgang stayed with Shawn's mom. They've never been apart for longer than a day so I was curious to see what would happen when they were reunited. I was expecting a slow-motion run toward each other and a long embrace (you know, with music swelling in the background.)

What actually happened? Was more of their usual shenanigans:



And my personal favourite:

"Hellllpppp meeee!"

In other puppy news, Wolfgang has stopped punishing us for leaving him and has resumed peeing outside. I like him a whole lot more now.

As for Stella, last night she proved she really is my dog: Shawn sold a pair of speakers and came home with a wad of cash. He was in the bedroom sorting it into piles of $100, when I heard him frantically start with the "Stella! Leave it! Leave it? LEAVE IT!" (Of all the commands we've tried to teach Stella, "leave it" is the one she absolutely refuses to acknowledge. She can give a high-five like a boss but tell her to "leave it" and she'll look at you like you're a smelly turd.) I walk into the bedroom and there's Stella, muscles tensed, ready to bolt ... with a mouthful of twenties. I wanted to grab my camera but Shawn thought that maybe, just maybe, I should help get the $160 (atta girl!) out of Stella's maw before it started to disintegrate. He's no fun.

Shelter, Give Them Shelter From The Coming Storm

We weren't allowed to bathe Wolfgang for two weeks after his surgery. For normal people this wouldn't be a big deal but for crazy people like me it was an issue. My dogs have weekly baths. I know this is excessive but it's not actually a germ thing. It's a filth thing. My dogs are constantly dirty. The dog park we go to most often is covered in pea gravel. It's directly across from a construction site. The dogs come home covered in dust. The other dog park we frequently go to is in the woods and is constantly muddy. One of Stella's favourite things to do is to roll in the mud. Also, because of Stella's chewing habits, Wolfgang is always covered in saliva to some degree. Add some urine to the mix (Wolfgang squats to pee. I have no idea why. I have no idea how to make him lift his leg. So he squats. And pees all over his front legs. And sometimes his beard, if he bends his head down to take a look. Which he often does. I love my dogs.) So. Weekly baths. Don't judge me.

By the time his stitches came out and the cone came off, Wolfgang was one smelly puppy. As soon as we got home from the vet, into the bath he went.

Why do you hate me?

Oh the shame.

Wolfgang doesn't mind the bath too much (it involves cookies!) but he hates getting out of the bath. I don't know if it's because he's cold or if he's searching for his lost dignity ("no more pictures, lady!") but he always tries to burrow into whatever is near, whether it's the couch, or Shawn's clothes, or the bedsheets.

puppy bum!

puppy burrito!

Once he was dry and combed, he looked very handsome. A bit scruffy perhaps (I can't bring myself to get him groomed - I love the curls!) but still handsome.

Stella thought so too. Please note the adorableness of Stella sitting on the arm of the chair. (I love her.)

And if that wasn't cute enough, she then balanced on the arm of the chair to get at Wolfgang. She is nothing if not committed.

Why am I showing you picture after picture of adorable puppies? In the hopes that you'll head over to Who's Your Dachshund and donate to their cause. Today is the last day and they have about $350 to go to reach their goal of raising $2,000 for animal shelters. I just made my donation; it wasn't a large one but every penny helps. So if you're feeling spendy, go check it out. The puppies thank you.

Victory 'Til The Storm Is Gone

A few things:

My Vancouver Canucks swept the St. Louis Blues last night. It was epic (no really, it was - the Canucks have never swept a team before, in franchise history.) The game got a bit dicey after St. Louis managed to tie it up, but Burrows (officially my new favourite player) got the winning goal with 19 seconds left in the first overtime. The city went wild. My head is hurty today. The end. Now we've got a week or so to rest up before the second round of playoffs begin.

* * * * *

To everyone who commented on my 30 Day Shred nonsense yesterday: Thank you for not laughing at me. I don't know what I was thinking. Level 2? Come on now. I was fine yesterday morning but by the time I got home from work, my arm, chest, and back muscles were a tight little ball of hatred. I didn't even do Level 1 last night. Tonight I am going to do Level 1 again and just amp up the cardio a bit by doing my jumping jacks and whatnot while holding my cans of beans (thanks to whoever suggested that. I'd go back and find out who you are and link to you but I can't. See: hurty head.)

* * * * *

Wolfgang peed on Stella's head last night. Intentionally. He actually propped his leg up on her back so that he could get some stability and better aim. And peed on her head (and in her water bowl, as she was having a drink of water at the time.) I don't really know why he did it. They had been wrestling. They both ran to get some water. Stella got there first and wouldn't let Wolfgang have a drink (they each have a water dish and both dishes always have water in them. It doesn't matter though. The water dish they want is the one that the other dog is drinking out of. Every time.) So he peed on her. And that's pretty much all I can say about that.

And that's all I've got. How are you doing this fine Wednesday morning?

I Think You're Stubborn 'Cept You're Always Softening

Wolfgang is not the only puppy suffering with the cone situation.

The easy access to Wolfgang's ears that Stella once enjoyed has disappeared.

She's not one to let a simple obstacle defeat her.

If only Wolfgang would stop squirming, she'd be able to get the right angle.

You call it stubborn. Stella calls it determined.

This is pretty much my favourite picture. Ever. 

For your viewing pleasure: Puppy Shenanigans. 

Stella Tells Wolfgang Who's Boss from Hillary W on Vimeo.

Yes, I do realize that I talk to my puppies like they are really stupid babies. I wish that I didn't but it's a habit I haven't been able to break. 

Just after I pressed stop, Wolfgang jumped from the couch onto Stel's chair all ninja-style and stole the bone. And then I said some bad words because I just missed recording it. Sorry dudes, I'll do better next time.

How Come I Still Can't Open This Letter

Dear Vancouver Canucks,

Congratulations on winning the Northwest Division title! It was a pleasant surprise after you missed last year's playoffs (by only three points! that's only one win and one tie!) due to losing seven of the last nine games of the season. Let's make this year count, okay? It's difficult to be a Canucks fan sometimes. You're not the most consistent team; this season there were high highs (fighting for the last few wins of the season to steal the division title from Calgary by two measly points, heck yes!) and low lows (let's not talk about January's dismal record.) So, Vancouver Canucks, playoffs start tonight. Please, PLEASE, don't fuck this up.

Love,
Hillary

PS: Please don't play tonight like you played last week when Colorado was in town. I was booing the Colorado bench in this shot but as it turns out, I could have been booing your lazy performance.


The game sucked but we had the bitchingest (it's a word) seats ever, thanks to a friend who couldn't use her tickets. We were in the second row, right beside the bench, and the only thing that could have made it cooler was if the Canucks had managed to win.

* * * * *

Dear Next Door Neighbour Whom (Who?) I Rarely See and Who Intimidates The Shite Out of Me,

This morning as I got out of the elevator and said "have a good done", what I really meant to say was "have a good day." But you were saying "have a good day" so I switched to "have a good one" mid-sentence. And came out with "have a good done." I'm sorry. I will try to be less creepy next time.

Respectfully - and awkwardly! - yours,
Hillary

* * * * *

Dear 3carnations,

The Snack Taxis arrived yesterday. Thank you! Stella has already claimed the small one for her dog biscuits (the majority of the ziploc bags we use are for holding peanut butter treats to bribe the puppies with when we're out in public.) I've claimed the big one for healthy snacks to take to work with me. And by "healthy snacks" I mean "pretzels and chocolate chips" (what? it's kind of like trail mix.)

Thanks again,
Hillary

* * * * *

Dear Trish,

The plan was to finish making these last year when Fraser was born. Clearly that did not pan out.

I am really happy that I was able to complete these and very ashamed that it took me so long. The reason I took a break from sewing was because Stella was such a rambunctious pup and having needles around seemed like a bad idea. We got Stella over a year ago. I am lame.

Now that they're finished, I hope to mail them to you before your sons go off to university. Knowing my track record, it does not look hopeful.

Shamefully yours,
Hillary

* * * * *

Dear Wolfgang,

I know that you hate wearing the cone. I get it. I would hate wearing the cone. It's just one more week though buddy, and then you can take it off. In the meantime, if you could stop biting me every time I came near you, I would really appreciate it. I have little bruises all over my legs from where the cone hits me every time you go in for the kill.

I still love you, just a little less right now.

From,
The One Who Feeds You So You Better Shape Up or Ship Out
(and I officially just turned into my dad with that statement)