Friday, May 30, 2008

Check out my Slide Show!

And then there were none...

It seems that we have succeeded in selling (hate that word) all of the pups. After 5 weeks they seem more like children to me. I keep waiting for the FBI to show up at the door and arrest me for illegal trafficking or some such nonsense.

I take finding homes for them very seriously. Last litter I even went so far as to do damage to a cherished family relationship over the placement of one of Zoe's babies. She still isn't speaking to me (the family member, not Zoe); but the pup ended up in a much better situation so you take what you can get.

Yorkies are so special. They are a happy breed, but they need to be loved... And they need to "go out" more than say, a saint bernard. They have tiny little bladders and part time students working full time on the side really shouldn't be in the running.

The last baby is going to a devoted mother to another Yorkie. She even had pictures of his new big sister... Real pictures. The kind that you take your kids to get at 3 months, 6 months, 9 months, and a year. (well your first born, anyway!) That is real devotion. Even mine don't have real photographs, they are lucky when they get to go to a real groomer:) Which, by the way, is what we are going to do with the money from the puppy sale. That's right, after the vet bills (actually the bills that have been put off to pay the vet bills) are caught up I should have just enough to get every one's shots for the year and a hair cut. Sad, but true. Note to America...breeding dogs is not a profitable business. But, my own collection keeps growing:)

I am keeping the runt out of this litter, too. That makes three for me. Promised hubby to spay Zoe to remove future temptation. haha. The newest addition is a tweeny girl I named Schatzi. Her big sister, Truly Scrumptious, is thrilled...not. I would add pictures here, but they are so scruffy right now it would be bad for business! Just for the record, Diane's Cricket and Roxy are previous babies from my home so you can look at her pictures!

One more week of feedings and cleaning up after 4 puppies. yippee! Then we are off to potty train the baby... fun.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Wednesday musings...

I don't think that I have mentioned that my children are very artistic:) We have spent all of our vacation money for most on our marriage on music lessons and such. Brian plays the piano and the guitar... and a bunch of other instruments that I don't want in my house. And instead of doing "school", Brian spent most of his class time hours writing poetry and mini novels... when he wasn't sneaking a peek at Lord of the Rings. I wanted him to do geometry and he wanted to read JRR Tolkien. What was I thinking?? Now that he has moved on from high school, we are getting along much better.

I thought that today I would plagiarize his newest piece. You know that if you work for a company and come up with a great idea that the idea actually belongs to the company, right? I think that anything created by the children that issued from my body should rightfully belong to me anyway, don't you think?? Intellectual property or something like that.


Though blue gives way to stormy skies
And though the flower slowly fades
Though death is what follows after life
Though being found follows losing your way
Though Autumn beauty is dying leaves
Though the glory of the sunset is the end of the day
We will always have our memories
So that all we love will never change.

Have a great day, and don't be afraid of the changes in your life...

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

If perfectionism comes a knockin' at your door...

Just finished putting dinner into the oven... I need to get to the grocery store, so dinner was sort of an adventure which I am not really known for. I told my husband that the "scalloped potatoes" were either going to be WHEREHAVEYOUBEENALLMYLIFE or WHATWASITHINKING. Not really sure if you can mix margarine and real butter. I hope that my oven does not explode:)

Normally, I am a little more organized. Okay, let's just say it. I am freakishly inflexible. I am a perfectionist...which I think is Latin for "just shoot me now." I will no doubt write and rewrite this blog several times before I take the plunge and click on the dreaded "publish post" button. Even then I will most certainly reread this post several times. Even now I am resisting the urge to correct a couple of mistakes that I have found in the previous post. I can do it, I know I can. But don't look back because I am certain that I will not last long.

When I think of how many grocery lists that I have rewritten so that every item was in the order that you approach them in the aisles and the handwriting could have been entered into an art contest, it just amazes me. I could be the person that God put on to the earth to figure out the cure for cancer, but I was too busy turning all of my tomato sauce cans to face the front of the pantry. I'm really not a freak; it is just that I figure that if you have to unpack the books and put them back on the bookcase anyway... well, you may as well put them in alphabetical order by author.

It is surprisingly difficult to diagnose perfectionism because one can't help but have a vision of perfect homes perfectly decorated and perfectly clean. My fellow perfectionists would have perfect marriages with perfect offspring and (of course)... a FICO score of around 800. Oh, and their Yorkies would have perfectly groomed coats and would never, ever, poop under the bed.

Unfortunately, there is a nasty side to perfectionism. I heard Charles Stanley once make an interesting observation about this condition. He said that perfectionism is a two sided coin and that the other side is procrastination (you know how preachers like their alliterations). It was like someone had exposed my deep dark secret. I remember in school as a child not turning in homework assignments because they weren't quite finished or because it needed to be rewritten in order to be acceptable.

Adulthood isn't much better...Why take the time to do the dishes when I know that there is no way that I will have the (whatever) to load the dishwasher, scour the stove, straighten the pantry, mop the floor, clear out the fridge, take out the trash, make a pitcher of tea, wipe the counters, put out fresh flowers, polish the kitchen table, clean the microwave, blah, blah, blah...

Ps. Gotta go clean the kitchen..or take a nap...hmm, let me think:)

Monday, May 26, 2008

You haven't lived until you've been embarrassed by a kid

You may have noticed on my profile that I have two children...technically, I have 6 but God decided to keep several for Himself. In any case, when someone asks the inevitable..."how many children do you have??" this is not a simple question for me. I know in my head that the correct answer is "2", but my heart refuses to pretend the others do not exist. Maybe someday when I know you better we can go there...but not today:)

The truth is that maybe God knew that I would never survive that many "teen" years. When they were little I really prayed for the rapture before that dreaded event, but alas it was not to be. So here I am doing my very best to keep from losing my mind in a house full of hormones.

They know that I am blogging these days. There has been alot of discussion about how I need to be careful not to embarrass them, which I think is hilarious because you really aren't a parent until you have been embarrassed by your kid. The first couple of years they lull you into a false sense of security looking all sweet and stuff. People at Kroger stop you in the aisle just to look at your little bundle of joy because the cuteness literally stopped them in their tracks. They even say stuff that you feel the need to stop everything for to write it down... like when said stranger asks your little towheaded boy where he got that blond hair and he looks up with those angelic blue eyes and seriously says, "Wal-Mart."

Fast forward a couple of years to the same little boy asking prayer for his daddy in junior church "because he has been drinking again". WHAT!!! It took about 35 seconds for a the pastor to send and old family friend/deacon to "talk" to my husband. My husband, with deep spiritual insight, decided to lean over and tell me this during the song service. So when I ran bawling from the sanctuary before the preaching began, I am sure that the tongues began to wag. I really thought that we were going to have to find another church after that one.

So if, for instance if I were to tell you that the most recent hilarity around here is that someone (not me or dad or sister...) was working very hard to iron a shirt for Sunday morning in accordance with mom's declaration that SHE IS NOT A MAID and that after much work and frustration dad discovered that the can of "starch" said Spray and Wash...oops! shhh, don't tell him I told you. He would be sooooo embarrassed!

Ps: I would like you all to pray for my husband...............JUST KIDDING!!

Saturday, May 24, 2008

What had happened was...

Okay, so here's the deal... I feel the need to explain since my beloved sister has been keeping the world posted on her blog about the details of her adventures with the motorcycle riding little terror (I mean Yorkie) named Zaccheus. My dog Zoe is Zacchie's momma. I delivered him myself 4 weeks ago and spent the first 5 days of his little life trying to keep from killing him. After the emotional roller coaster of that first week or so, I finally called the vet to find out the most humane way in which to end this ride. When Diane found out what the game plan was, she rushed over here post-haste to rescue him from me. Being the consummate pessimist that I am, I figured that he wouldn't make it thru the night...again. Up to that point, my husband was checking on him in the mornings so that I wouldn't have to bury him myself. As far as I was concerned this death watch was getting old and was too emotionally draining, not to mention the fact that I also had a litter with four more healthy babies that needed my attention. So here comes Diane, my optimist sister with her "I can fix that" husband to the rescue. Personally, I think that Diane has seen one too many Disney movies, but what do I know? Now the little rascal has survived 4 weeks and I look like Cruela De Vil! Thanks, Zach...

Ps...Anybody want a plain old ordinary Yorkie puppy who does not know how to ride a bike and has never had his tail tacked to his butt????