Angry Dog Mom

I was so angry this morning that I screamed at Picasso. It was in the heat of the moment. And I'm not proud. But he made me so ANGRY.

 

I'm trying to phase out his favorite crochet toys (stupid Martha Stewart doesn't make them anymore). So I bought him a few cheap plastic squeaky toys. He removes the squeaker with freakish precision and leaves the rest of the toy unharmed. So I thought to myself, "Hey Self, if you can buy this dog $0.94 toys and he loves them, you should get many." So I did.

 

Notice the cheap plastic fire hydrant he is guarding with his life.

 

Of course there is a catch to this seemingly wonderfully cheap replacement for the crochet toys (why did you stop making them, Martha Stewart? I paid $10.00 per toy without batting an eye!). When Picasso plays with them, since they are mostly solid in shape, they get away from his paws somehow. They erratically roll around and he crazily follows them. Somehow they ALWAYS end up under the bookshelf in the living room or the dresser in the bedroom. ALWAYS.

 

He cannot reach them when they end up under there. It's not his fault he can't reach them. His arms are short. And he doesn't have thumbs for grabbing. But it is his fault that he insists on playing with his new toys beside these two pieces of furniture.

 

When they get lodged under there, out of his reach, he does the only thing he can: claw frantically at the wood and whine like no one can hear him. It's the most annoying behavior he's ever exhibited: and he was a terrible puppy.

 

So this morning when he woke me up to go potty, he got so excited at the sight of me getting out of bed that he grabbed one of his toys and immediately got it stuck under the dresser. I walked to the kitchen to get his leash, waited by the front door to take him out... and no Picasso. He was carrying on hysterically in the bedroom over the lost toy.

 

I called for him. Then I yelled for him. Then I got totally fed up and stalked towards the bedroom and screamed at him. He ran under the bed and assumed the "we're playing" pose: front legs out, butt in the air. Alright, I had been awake less than 3 minutes. I wasn't in the mood. I screamed at him some adult words that he is not old enough to hear, threw the leash on the floor and got back in bed. "Screw that guy, he doesn't really need to go out that badly if his toy is more important," I said to myself. 

 

He was silent under the bed for a half an hour. Then I was reawoken to the sound of him vomiting under the bed. Why? Why does this happen frequently? At least he wasn't asking about the toy. So I got up, took him out, and retrieved his toy, which he happily chewed on under the bed until I was finally ready to be awake for the day.

 

The point of the story is: why, Martha Stewart, did you get rid of the crochet toys??

Monday Night Dinner

For dinner this evening I made half a stick of Velveeta cheese with salsa in the crock pot. I also got a 6 pack of Killian's. Delicious. About half way through my pot of cheese and half way through my 6 pack, I started to feel sick with myself and my dinner choice. So I laid on the couch for a while and decided I needed to put some real food in me. Maybe that would make me feel better?

So, since James left for Afghanistan, I have been eating differently. I basically have been living off microwave dinners. They're not all gross actually. I've narrowed them down to a few pretty delicious ones, actually. This last time I went food shopping, I went to a different store than usual. So there were different frozen dinner varieties for me to choose from. Ooh variety!

 

I chose poorly.

 

 

Notice the fish fillet is the same shape as the dish it came in. This tipped me off immediately to not get my hopes up too high for this meal. It had a lot of dark meat in it, which I absolutely refuse to eat. Picasso enjoyed those parts, however. And the fish fillet as a whole was greasy for microwave prepared food. The mac and cheese was probably good, but I had just eaten a half log of Velveeta, so I was all cheesed out!! I give it a thumbs down and will not be buying it again.

 

In total, I've eaten cheese and beer in abundance and a few pieces of gross fish. I need to lay down again.

 

Stress 2013

This sums it all up:

 

I do the most stressful job of 2013 for little more than peanuts.

On top of my medic duties, I also have a plethora of noncommissioned officer duties. This means I work 24/7 for my Soldiers. When they have a problem, no matter if its during the duty day, evening or weekend, I have a problem. They call upon me for help, advise and answers.

This is sort of being like a Mom. But I'm a Mom to 4 grown adults with grown up personal and professional issues that I'm supposed to keep on track and fix if they derail. Juggling my problems with theirs can be very stressful.

And then there's that whole fighting a war thing. That's also stressful.

Stress or not, I really love the Army. True, the Army tests my devotion on a daily basis by throwing obstacles at me that would make most people give up and quit. But I am resilient. And I am a leader. I am a noncommissioned officer.

 

And I am a HUGE walking ball of stress....

Dislike Blogger, DISLIKE

Just a quick thought.

 

I hate the way Blogger has changed how you upload pictures. It took me damn near 2 hours to figure out how to get 1 picture loaded and I ended up doing it on accident so chances are I will struggle next time I need to upload one. What was so wrong with being able to upload from your computer? Why did I have to download Picasa and an app for my phone? Why did I spend 2 hours so frustrated that I actually had to curse out loud at my computer??

 

I'm very unimpressed with you, Blogger. Dislike. DISLIKE!

 

This Picasa symbol was easier to upload, however, if you are friends with me on Google+,  I'm sorry I'm flooding your news feed with ridiculous pictures. Not that anyone uses Google+ anyway....

 

What? January, Really?

It's 63 degrees in Clarksville, Tennessee. This weekend it's projected to be 70 degrees!! It's also January. This just seems unreal to me.

 

 

I was walking Picasso around the yard and making a mental list of the things that need to be done once Spring arrives and I noticed something funny. Well, two somethings funny.

 

1) My trees have buds on them.

 

2) My tulips, crocuses and daffodils are sprouting.

 

It's January. It's 70 degrees. My plants and trees are confused and they're preparing for Spring. They're going to be in a world of pain when they find themselves in overnight freezing temperatures-- say on Sunday night, for example. I hope it doesn't stunt them in any way.

I'm never going to get used to living in the South.