To PUPPY or NOT TO PUPPY???

OK. Today, I am reaching out to my readers. Not that there are many of them, but we could actually double the votes available in our household with this. So I'm going for it.

Bichon Frise or NO PUPPY???

Situation:

Blended family. My two girls are 6 and almost 9. My step-sons who are with us almost half the time are 5 and 8. I think "puppy" was the first word out of their mouths when each of them were under a year old.

Task:

Convince my husband and I that this is a smart decision. We realize the unconditional love and joy puppies can bring to a house hold. We also realize the poop and pee accidents, the yapping in the middle of the night that occurs while crate training, and the fights we will probably have around responsibilities for the dog, which will most likely all fall on us.

Here are the FACTS:

Our current visitation schedule with all the kids allows for us to have every other weekend alone.

And in our house, with four kids ranging from Kindergarten through third grade, this is our survival mechanism built into our marriage. If a puppy wins out, we would actually have to "plan" spontaneous decisions to travel on these weekends, or question the ability to head out of town for a night just to get away. However, the sound of having a little tiny dog to cuddle up with on the couch and watch a movie instead of heading out might just be enough to persuade us to stay home.

My husband and I up to a week ago have always been on the same page: "We are not dog people."

However, I had a dog for years in college and beyond until she got sick. I really did love her and miss her dearly, even though it's been 15 years since she's been gone.

My brother just got a Bichon.

He sent pics. My husband secretly researched them online (I was familiar with the breed but he was not) and suddenly 2 days ago started initiating conversations to me about them, and pictures he'd found online, and how damn cute they actually were, and... need I go on???

The conversation to the kids went like this:

If we were ever to consider a puppy at this time, we would have to give up our Disney trip in April that we've been trying to plan for the past month or so and wait at least another year for it. We had a family meeting, and posed to the four kids that this is a democracy - they get to deliberate together and propose a plan to us; a plan of responsibilities needed in order for Mark and I to believe they were serious about taking care of a "puppy". It needed to be fair and it needed to show us that they were serious about the decision. Then, after their "presentation" over dinner, we would deliberate and take some time to come to a decision.

Their verbal "presentation" turned into a formal play in the basement. Check this out:

They were all hiding behind the louver doors, scripts in hand, and formally recited "why" they wanted a puppy, along with a list of 20 responsibilities they would own. They also gave US responsibilities to be fair (we have to feed the dog since they don't know how much food it needs).

They also together revealed our fantasy puppy's name which would be Diamond [nickname Dime] if it was a boy, and Isabella [nickname Bella] for a girl. They even closed the sale and asked for the business. Damn, they were good.

So now we are in the midst of deliberation. (If a breeder came to our door right now with a Bichon in hand, it would be engulfed within seconds.) I said yesterday to my husband that I feel like this is our way of having our own "child" together since such thought and consideration is taking place on this joint decision - talk about responsibilities, and more talk around possible names and why we can't call her "Grace" or "Jake" because it reminds one of us of someone we went to school with or dated in the past.

And since breeders do not just end up on doorsteps, we will fight the urge to contact the local breeders we've found through good friends who have years of experience with Bichons. We will instead continue to torture ourselves with puppy stalking fantasies we now see and hear everywhere, until we can believe we are the point of making a rational decision.

SO PLEASE let me hear your thoughts... either support the animal bonding, or tell us we're fucking crazy. Your vote counts in this household! And by the way, you can always throw in a name suggestion... just in case.

Puppy? Or No Puppy?

DAMN. There are no other words.

I took this picture at the Syracuse Zoo during a field trip with my daughter's entire 2nd grade class.

This was our first animal display as we entered the zoo. Now imagine 75 or more eight year olds gasping in mid-sentence, gripping onto the fence in front of them with knuckles as white as snow, while most of them appeared to be injected with instantaneous fear...

Damn.

Ode To Philadelphia

Top 5 Reasons to Visit Philadelphia:

1. The Aroma. You can walk around the city and in the same breath ravish the scent of Starbucks coffee, tainted sewer water from underground, cheese steak and human urine. I can't tell you how refreshing this is on a Sunday morning after drinking just way too much wine. But for some reason I keep going back. And I keep waking up on Sundays hungover when I'm there.


2. The People. While many international folks roam the street and historical sites are bombarded with Japanese tourists snapping thousands of pictures in every direction, you will not be able to ignore the mannerisms of certain Philadelphia people. I will say that I can now understand why some are just downright nasty: if I had to wake up each day and smell the aroma as described above, or walk around with missing teeth, or gold capped teeth or just rotten teeth like some of the regulars I passed many times downtown, I probably wouldn't be in such friendly spirits either. I'm sorry to ask you for directions, or need my car from valet parking which I paid for as a customer. I'm sorry to bother you for a cup of coffee even though it was you behind the Starbucks counter who asked me what you could get me that morning for breakfast. But to the stranger of a shuttle driver who kindly picked the four of us up while walking our millionth mile to find the USS New Jersey offering to drive us to the entrance an unknowing mile away in the cold wind that day, thank you for your hospitality. You made our weekend, and for that I love your wonderful city.

3. The Shopping. No matter where you go or what you're looking for, I promise you that shopping in Philly is an experience. But if you happen to miss its one main elite section with top New York City type boutiques and department stores, you must explore. I promise you that no one has experienced shopping until you've trekked through the downtown Super K-Mart or Ross's which are the only stores open early on a Sunday morning to look for underwear you may have forgotten to pack or a bathing suit for the hotel whirl pool because everyone else you came with brought their own. And you wouldn't believe the selection of bikini separates you might find in mid November season. And the sizes available. Oh. My. God.


4. History. This in a nut shell is something I'll simply admit that I probably don't appreciate like those who might refer to themselves as "history buffs" [loving sister-in-law's husband]. While I can appreciate that Ben Franklin invented the bifocals and fought against the eagle being our national symbol in favor of the turkey, to me he is simply the guy who ran outside like an idiot with a kite and a key in a lightening storm where he almost fried to smithereens.


5. Wine. Or beer. Or vodka. Which was nice. And to my sister-in-law and her husband I would like to say that while we had a great time touring [following behind you most of the way only to be distracted by my husband's [your brother's] loud flatulance], my most favorite part of our trip was sipping wine for hours on end in the evening telling stories we've never heard, bitching about ex-spouses, and laughing at people we didn't know.

To this, I'd like to cheer the almighty city of Philly. We will see you again very soon.

Where are the manners people???

Why? Why? Why...I ask you all, are people so rude and all about themselves these days? Can you think of a time recently where you were in a conversation, or maybe even weren't, and someone said something to you where your instant thought was:

"Why the F_#* did you have to just say that to me???"

OK, for example:
Yesterday I was in the check out line at the grocery story (and yes, if you're seeing a pattern of checkout aisles each day after work, I'm a procrastinator at heart)...none the less, the cashier was so excited to tell me she had one hour to go until she was picking up her son who JUST turned 18 and was going to vote with her for the first time ever.

Pretty cool. She was so excited. I told her I thought it was great he was getting out to do it where others his age might not see the importance in it. I shared with her how surprised I was to have just earlier spoken to a 26 year old at work who literally told me since she had watched no debates and had no idea about politics or the candidates she wasn't going to vote. How sad it was that at 26 years old she had no interest, and here this cashier's son was 18 and taking advantage of this awesome right he now has.

Suddenly, the woman behind me waiting in line leaned her bony ass elbow into my thicker [sculptured] arm and said in such a miserable tone: "OH, whatever!! Maybe she would have voted if there was a candidate worth voting for. They're both MORONS!"

Me: [Cutting my pupils into her skull as hard as I could while trying just as hard to listen to my therapist's voice that echoed from the back of my brain waves that when dealing with such people I should replace anger with empathy towards these individuals since they are just miserable people, and I directed my voice and words to the cashier]: "Well now, I think that it's pretty darn cool he's voting. And even cooler that he's going with you. I'm actually taking my daughter with me too. Have a blast."

Why do people have to be so miserable and rain on other peoples' parades??? This woman was so excited for her son, and I believe so proud he was willing to go with her, and some strange bitch with a bony elbow had to push her down??? Why people, WHY I ASK????

EXAMPLE #2:
This past weekend, we were at a formal event. It was my mom's birthday, and her request months ago was that her five children with spouses/guests would attend this dinner/dance with her and my dad, so all of us could be together. While eating dinner, sipping wine, complementing everyone on their dresses, etc. my mother turned to me and said, "Wow Sue, where did you get that cocktail ring, is it new?"...

[I would like to interject that I absolutely love fun cocktail rings and make a habit to stop at a sterling jewelry shop any chance I can when flying through the Philadelphia airport just to get new rings to add to my collection...]

Me: "Oh yes!! [thank you for noticing my new FAVORITE piece of jewelry Mom, I could kiss you...] I got it at my regular store when I flew through the Philly airport to Cleveland last month, do you like it???!!"

My Mom: "Well, it IS a little WIDE...."

crushed to the ground.

WHY I ASK you??? WHY? WHY? WHY?

So yesterday I wore my wide-ass cocktail ring and took my own 6 year old daughter with me to vote for the better moron of a presidential candidate. And I not only felt pride in voting, but if I must say so myself, my hand looked pretty damn good pulling that lever.

Save Sydney Mom!

Shelle over at http://blokthoughtsnmore.blogspot.com is having her regular Monday "Don't You Hate It When..." themed contest. I entered a past post yesterday, and I'm a little scared of what I've started.

Why you ask?

Because my life seemingly continues to give me more "Don't You Hate It When..." opportunities even now, when I don't need them anymore. Check this one out from earlier today:

Don't You Hate It When...you're flying through the grocery store at just about 4:47pm to get home to relieve the babysitter by 5:00 so god forbid you don't feel like one of those full-time working moms who spend too much time away from their kids only to hear your cell phone ring at the checkout aisle as you're choosing between plastic or paper even though you've purchased 16 recyclable bags over the past 3 months that just sit in your trunk because you can never remember they exist...

And as you answer your cell phone you can hear your 8 year old daughter talking 90 miles per hour giving you the rundown of how your 6 year old daughter "...found the big bowl of leftover Halloween Hershey bars and Larissa [the babysitter] told her she's eaten WAY TOO MUCH MOM, but she didn't want to stop eating them and she wouldn't listen Mom so she went into the bathroom with the bowl of chocolate and locked the door and won't open it or let us in and won't answer us or come out, even when Larissa warned her that she would have to call you if she refused to and she still won't listen so that's why I am calling you Mom... Mom??? Can you hear me, Mom???"

Me: "Are you frickin' KIDDING ME?????????? Seriously."

She wasn't. So I negotiated over the phone through a door to save my daughter. With threats... and Scribbler Popsicles as a bribe to get the hell out of the bathroom and put the chocolate away.

I hate when that shit happens.