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.

Just Beat It Beat It Beat It Beat It No One Wants To Be Defeated - Take 4

Wednesday Ramblings by Hillary

This is the recipe I used to make the brownies in Monday's post.

I should note that the photo I used is not representative of the true size of the brownies. I probably got about 60 brownies out of the 9"x13" pan; they were so rich that you could really only eat a small piece at a time or you'd feel ill.

* * * * *

April's beets squeaked in just under the wire.


I took three beets, two sweet potatoes, one rutabaga, one red onion; peeled them and chopped them, tossed them in olive oil, added some minced garlic and salt and pepper and then roasted them for about an hour.

I didn't hate these beets, mainly because I chopped them so small that each mouthful contained other vegetables.

Let the record show that I still do not love beets, I just seem to have found a non-vomitous form.

* * * * *

To assuage my guilt over complaining about the Mexican wedding, I made the bride and groom some Smarties cookies. Because really, what else can you do when your wedding is cancelled, besides eat sugar and chocolate?

The good news is that the wedding is potentially back on, if the travel agency can find a resort in Cuba or the Dominican Republic that can accommodate the group. We'll know in the next few days. I am feeling very fretty about not knowing where we're going (because how can I make a plan if I don't know where we'll be?) but I'm trying to relax. I'm trying to quiet the Type A part of my personality (the, uh, main part of my personality) and focus on the fact that this is about the bride and groom and their happiness.

* * * * *

Chicago is my new boyfriend, after knocking Calgary out of the playoffs. I'll have to break up with Chicago tomorrow when game 1 of the Vancouver/Chicago series starts but for now we're quite happy with each other.

* * * * *

There is some crazy stuff going on at work that I can't write about but it's taking up all my mental energy. Hence the crappy rambling post. Sorry peeps, I'll try harder next time.

Happy Hump Day!

Put On Your Dancing Shoes You Sexy Little Swine

Hey remember that time I was all whiny and annoying about having to go on a fabulous trip to Mexico?

Our trip has been cancelled and I am officially the biggest arsehole for complaining about it in the first place.

We were due to leave in eleven days. The bride and groom found out eleven days before their wedding that it has been cancelled for reasons beyond their control. I guess I should just be glad that they don't read my blog.

I'll just go hang my head in shame now.

I Got My Swim Trunks And My Flippie Floppies

When our two car payments and two insurance payments are combined, Shawn and I spend more monthly on our vehicles than on our mortgage. And that's not even considering the cost of parking or gasoline. At this rate we will never get out of our condo and into a real house.

Our plan is to sell Shawn's car and trade mine in for one we can compromise on (Shawn needs speed and power, I need a hatchback for easy puppy transportation.) We spent Saturday morning at a dealership getting my car appraised.

I am not a fan of car dealerships. I do not love cars the way Shawn does so I end up spending a lot of energy trying to tune him out while he drools over all the shiny new cars. Car dealerships smell funny. They have bad coffee. Car salespeople scare me a little (I think it's the combination of manipulation and desperation they exude.) This dealership was no exception.

At one point during the shenanigans, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I take two steps into the room and realize that I am standing in a puddle of dirty pee water. Someone had done something horrific to the toilet and caused a massive overflow. The floor was completely covered in water and there was toilet paper and other debris floating in it. And I was standing in it. IN FLIP FLOPS.

I hauled ass to the front desk to tell someone and the woman there says, nonchalantly, "Oh yeah, I know. Just go upstairs and use the employee bathroom." And then my head melted because seriously? You know? You know that there is a major flooding situation in the bathroom and you couldn't be arsed to, you know, put a fucking sign on the door? So people don't go in - IN FLIP FLOPS - and get dirty pee water on their feet? ON THEIR BARE FEET?

So my car dealership experience didn't start off too well.

Fast forward to us sitting down with a salesman and having him tell me how "amazing" it is that "so many woman are driving stick shifts nowadays." Now, he was an older guy (probably my dad's generation) who didn't seem like he was trying to be a dick. I think he was just trying to include me in the conversation because up to that point he and Shawn had been having a spirited discussion about the future of GM while I sat stewing about the dirty pee water on my feet and how I was going to have to throw out my favourite pair of flip flops and probably sterilize my feet in boiling water and that was really going to hurt a lot and wow this coffee tastes like mud. So. The salesman tells me it's amazing and Shawn shoots me a look (the "don't say anything Hillary, it's not worth it" look) and I bite my tongue and don't say something like "it sure is amazing! Did you know I can vote now, too?" and spend the rest of our time there stewing about dirty pee water and chauvinistic salesmen.

Here's the thing: if he had told me it was impressive that more and more women are now driving stick shifts I would probably find it a bit condescending but not outright offensive. But to call it amazing? The miracle of life = amazing. The Vancouver Canucks sweeping the St. Louis Blues in four straight games = amazing.

These brownies I made last week = amazing.

Women mastering the stick shift? Not amazing. Kind of cool, if you ask me. I definitely feel like a bit of a badass because I know how to drive stick. But I don't feel like it's my greatest accomplishment.

Shawn says I'm too sensitive. There is a slight possibility that he's correct; I mean, this did happen two days ago and I'm still pissed about it. I just find it really insulting that this man felt justified in basically congratulating me for being able to drive my car. Asshole. Needless to say, he will not be selling us a car (and not just because my car was appraised at over $10,000 less than what I paid for it fourteen months ago ... eep!)

When You Said Tulips I Knew That You're Mine

I don't spend a lot of one-on-one time with my mom. We see each other often enough (2 parents + 4 kids + 4 significant others = a whole lot of birthdays to celebrate, on top of all the other mandatory dinners like Easter and Thanksgiving) but we don't really spend quality time together. So I invited her to go to the Tulip Festival with me because a: she's always really wanted to go and b: going to the States means buying American candy. Oh and I guess I should include c: I get to be the best daughter for a weekend.

I told my mom I would pick her up at nine so we could get to the border before it got too busy. At five to nine, I was sitting at my parents' kitchen table, drinking coffee with my dad. After some truly magnificent faffing, which included two - TWO! - trips to the bank (the first to get cash and another after she realized the branch was open Saturday morning and she could get her American money out of her safety deposit box, if only we could head back to the house for a quick second so she could grab the safety deposit box key), we managed to leave for the border by ten. We got onto the highway, turned on the traffic report, and found out that there was a minimum two hour wait at the three nearest border crossings.

So. No tulips.

Instead, we went back to my place and grabbed Stella (Wolfgang had to sit this one out due to his man bits not being fully healed) and drove up to Buntzen Lake.

It's only an hour outside of Vancouver but it feels like you're in another world.

Everything is so green and alive.

The air smells so fresh.

There's a fabulous off-leash dog park on the beach that is fenced in on three sides, with the fence extending into the water so the dogs can swim.

Stella is not much of a swimmer.

She does, however, like to sniff out all the smelly beachy smells.

And then, you know, roll in them.

That right there? Is a picture of pure puppy bliss.

It wasn't the day we had planned but my mom and I had a really nice time. It's interesting to spend time with my mom when she's not mothering her flock. She's a lot more ... relaxed.

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?

You're Just A Poor Misguided Fool Who Thinks They Know What I Should Do

I'm thinking of starting a new series called Misguided Mondays, where I check in Tuesday morning and write about all the stupid shite I did the day before.

Monday's are consistently difficult for me (I know, right? I'm so original.) Work is particularly rough because my boss has worked all weekend (every weekend) with no support so there is always a million deadlines thrown at me as soon as I walk through the door Monday morning. By the time I leave in the evening, my brain is always fried. So of course I come home and do something stupid, like that time I decided to be spontaneous and get my hair cut. And decided that I needed bangs (after not having bangs for ... oh fifteen years or so.)

Onward. Yesterday I had a shitty day (quelle surprise!) On top of work nonsense, I had a really stupid bickery fight with Shawn ... via text message. And I just happen to be feeling bloated and sensitive this week. So. What do I do when I get home? I decide that I should probably start pulling out my summer clothes to prepare for Mexico. Summer clothes that include my bikinis. Bikinis that have not been worn since last summer. Last summer when I was skinny from wedding stress.

And then, because I am the smartest lady ever, I TRIED THE BIKINIS ON. While feeling bloated and stabby. And then I died. The end.

In related news, last night I started the 30 Day Shred and wow, I am a bit hurty today. Also? I kind of find Jillian Michaels really annoying. If I hear "abs like these don't come for free!" one more time, I will likely throw a can of beans at the tv (I'm using beans instead of weights. Not because I don't own weights but because the weights I own (the 5lb weights ... I'm so ashamed) are too heavy.) Apparently I am a weakling. I could only manage to do two push-ups. Two girly push-ups. I rocked the cardio and the abs but anything to do with arms kicked my ass. I'm fairly certain that everyone is doing the shred because I hear about it all the time, so I'm hoping someone can answer this for me: should I move up to the level 2 workout even though my arms are crap? Last night I definitely had a workout, my heart rate was up during the cardio and I was a red, sweaty mess, but I felt like I could have pushed much harder. As far as abs are concerned, I didn't have to stop during the workout last night but I was definitely working as hard as I could. So should I stick with level 1 or move up to level 2?