I Maed Dis

Yipes! Demand for more information is higher than I anticipated! When I found out I was pregnant I decided to keep open a handy dandy draft in blogger to document some thoughts and feelings I was having, trying to keep it concise and to the point, and now that the cat is out of the bag I can finally share it!
A quick explanation about the instagram photo. Early this year, we began seriously talking about trying to get pregnant. It has always been our plan that Mark would be the "breadwinner" and I would be the "SAHM" (stay-at-home-mom), continuing to utilize my musical abilities to scootch a little extra cash now and again into our bank account but really focusing on the home. I desperately wanted to quit my soulcrushing job after my year mark (in May) but then the enticement of a severance package entered in and I was chained to the desk for at least a few more months. Blessedly, it ended a month earlier than expected and we hit the grindstone! (too much? #sorrynotsorry)
Anyway, my cutsie plan that I got far too attached to was to be able to announce IN Disneyland that I was pregnant. But the months went by and more sticks came out negative but then the week of the trip it gave me the answer I was hoping for. I still didn't want to say anything while we were there however, considering I was barely 5 weeks along and wouldn't have any concrete proof. I hadn't even been to the OB yet! So we took photos while we were there and dolled up a "First Visit" pin and I waited none-too-patiently for the time when we would finally have an ultrasound.
Now for #babyziggy. The morning my mom, sister, and I hit the road for Disneyland, my dad came out to send us off and said to me, "take care of that little zygote!" He'd been referring to 'it' as "the zygote" and I thought it was cute and the nickname "ziggy" popped into my head. Perfectly gender neutral and now I don't hafta call my baby an 'it' until we know what the gender is.

We're so ecstatic and I can't stop looking at all our ultrasound pictures. If I can figure out how to snag them off of Mark's google+, there may be videos included at the end of this post. Please enjoy my pregnant ramblings (more often complainings).

[10/28/14] I chose a poor day/moment to start this out.

Turns out I am [most likely] pregnant. (!!!!)
Parenthetical excitement courtesy of my current inability to muster much more energy than it takes to slump pitifully in an office chair and sluggishly type some thoughts out so I can post them later. Much later on. Because I just hit 6 weeks today. And that means I'm only halfway through my first trimester. So I guess /fistpump for making it through the first sexmester. #giggle

But also that's the first time I've thought about it that way and I'm halfway through the first trimester! Yikes! Granted, the moment you find out you're already about a month along so really it's not saying much.

The reason it's a poor day/moment to start journaling this pre-announcement period is because this is the first morning I've really felt icky. But just for continuity's sake, I'll start right from the beginning.

We have been trying for a couple of months. I was irrationally paranoid about the question of my fertility and the more negative tests I accumulated the more I was convinced there was something wrong with me. I had no other reason to believe this could be so other than the fact that I am adopted so my family medical history is unknown and "who knows what could be wrong with me!" Which is/was silly. But it felt real for those few months.
I knew my period was supposed to be coming around soon, but I woke up Monday morning, the 20th of October, and I felt really normal. Definitely lacking any gearing-up-for-period feelings. So I checked my tracking app and the words "0 days left" greeted me. With a shrug of my shoulders and a black cloud of doubt over my mind, I meandered downstairs for a pee stick.
I ignored the steadily inflating balloon of hope. I shoved it away, tucked under my spleen probably, where I could keep it from leaking the excitement. I told myself it would be just like all the other times.

I think "stunned" would be a good word to use here. Like being shot with a phaser set on stun with a side of freaking elated. I stared and stared and grinned at that word while the phrase "Holy moly" repeated on loop in my mind, sometimes staggering out of my mouth.
I didn't know what to do next. I obviously needed more pee sticks and prenatals and "oh shoot, I don't even have a doctor, and I gotta figure out how to tell Mark...Mark! It's only nine in the morning! Am I really going to wait until six or later to tell him?!"
I knew I didn't want to just text him the photo of the pee test. I knew I wanted to try something more special than that. But I also knew it would be a looooong long day if I tried to just keep it to myself for nearly ten hours.
So I procrastinated.
I went to the store to buy the next set of tests while also grabbing some prenatal vitamins, ginger ale, and random food bits that sounded good at the moment. The cashier casually checked me out and as I was paying she eyed me and asked, "so...are you?"
My still stuck in shock brain flubbered for a moment and I gaped at her silently.
"Are you pregnant?"
"I uh, I think I might be. I'm late and I took one test this morning that came out positive."
More grinning like a loon.
"Well congratulations, I hope you are!"
"Thank you!"

I hope that random cashier at Walmart realizes that she was the very first human on this earth to know that I suspected I was pregnant.
After I brought everything home and got it all stuck away and took some vitamins I couldn't stand it any more and had to send Mark a message.
I went outside and got the best shot of the dogs I could muster, edited it with my fat finger on my sub-par phone app and sent it over gmail chat with the caption "the boys wanted you to know how the test came out this morning!"

*please appreciate my clever pun, plzthxbai*

But apparently the message wasn't exactly clear enough because the conversation ensued as such:

Such eloquent. Very words. So wow.

From that moment on about 7 in the morning I would pop awake and find it completely impossible to fall asleep again and at 7 in the evening I would feel mildly nauseous. That's still happening only I guess now the sick feeling is extending to morning as well, so cheerio on that. But! I am most certainly not complaining because there has been no actual puking yet so for that I am eternally grateful.
But I do have a bit of a head cold. Kinda divebombed me the night before we drove out for our Disneyland trip and just stuck around for probably the heck of it. Rude.

So now I'm back home and rehabilitating our house back into a semblance of an adult abode considering I'm supposed to be prepping to be a mommy now #unpreparedlikewhat?
But it's just after eleven and so far I've started laundry (mounds and mounds of it but at least it's started!) and finished the dishes and wiped down the kitchen and, now, blogged a bit. Oh, and I fed the dogs. They're alive so kids should be a breeze, right??

[11/16/2014]

Meh. All the meh.
The sickness has taken deep root in my tummy and just made itself at home. Constantly. I spend a lot of time hanging around the bathroom with a towel on the floor to kneel on but nothing ever really happens (except one awful morning but I'm pretty sure it was my fault, how dare I try to brush my teeth) so now I basically shlup around the house trying to do stuff, crippled with anxiety about throwing up at any moment.
I hate vomiting. I hate it. It makes me anxious and irritable and even if I'm not the one sick I don't deal well with it. (Guess how well that's sitting on my feelings about becoming a mom.) In the past few weeks I've discovered that it's not the actual act of vomiting that I detest, it's the anticipation. The build up. The contemplation of what's about to happen. I find myself thinking often, "if only I could just actually throw up, then maybe I'd feel better..."
BUT I am so, so, so, indescribably grateful that I just feel bad. I can handle feeling bad. I know it could be so much worse and I could be dehydrated and need medical help and be worrying about the health of my baby so if it has to be miserable, I'd prefer this over anything else.

I'm a little peeved with the OB office considering I know absolutely zero things about how this is all supposed to go. So when I called them that fateful day of the positive pee stick and said, "this is my first time I don't know how this works," and she asked the date of my last period and then told me to come in that monday I just figured, "okay! sounds good!" I didn't realize that it's basically useless to go in before 8 weeks or so.
SO I still, as of yet, have not heard the heartbeat or seen an ultrasound of the munchkin in my belly. My next appointment isn't until 12 weeks, December 9th. I was telling Mark the other day that it's a good thing that, obviously, you don't have your period for the whole of pregnancy because otherwise everything else I would probably be explaining away out of paranoia. Having had no concrete confirmation yet there's still a tiny voice in the back of my mind that's like, "noooo, nah you can't be pregnant, that's silly, no, nope." And then when I DO accept it the fact that they didn't check the heartbeat has me irrationally paranoid that something will inevitably be wrong.
But I'm trying to be sensible about it and just take deep breaths and not stew in worry for the next month. Although I suppose stewing in worry is my new state of being for the rest of my life now.

In summation, eating food is a chore, laying on the couch or the floor with a pillow and blanket is my saving grace, and I can never get enough water. It's time for a Disney movie.

[12/8/2014]

Tomorrow is our first ultrasound and I am so beyond describably stoked. And terrified. And excited. And nervous. Mark got the day off so he could come with me and depending on the news I may be forcing him to take me out to lunch somewhere afterward. He's practically giddy with teasing me that it could turn out to be twins since we know nothing and my birthmother did indeed have twins a few years after I was adopted. And they are fraternal. So genetics is blaring like a neon sign in the back of my mind. But beyond that I just can't wait to finally have some visual and auditory evidence of the little bean(s) that I can pull up whenever I'm feeling poopy and remember the reason for all of it.
Speaking of feeling poopy, my second trimester starts tomorrow and already I've been feeling much, much better. Praise, hallelujah. The way I described it to Mark is that now I just feel like I ate some bad yogurt rather than staking out all the places I could inconspicuously puke whenever I step outside the house. I felt like the nauseous version of Jason Bourne..."I come in here and the first thing I'm doing is I'm catching the sightlines and looking for an exit." But by sightlines I mean trashcans and other such projectile catching bins. But regardless, I am so incredibly grateful that the nausea has abated. December is always a busy month but to be performing multiple times a week right up until Christmas takes its toll when I'm not winded by walking up the stairs or driving the car. So yeehaw for feeling alright. And Christmas.
Poor Mark was on call this past week and missed our first two Christmas concerts, one of which was at the temple lights. He also missed my dad performing with a community college in singing Handel's Messiah (or at least highlights thereof, they didn't do the entire thing). He mentioned that it was particularly bumming him out because usually these things are what help him get into the Christmas mindset. It's tricky here in Arizona when "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" basically means Walmart has tree decorations and lights for sale. Most of my childhood years were spent in Utah and he lived in Iowa for a few years and we both love the White Christmas effect. Me a tad more so than him, but still. We miss it.
Our Christmas shopping is nearly finished. We're still waiting on a few mailed items to arrive and we need to get a couple white elephant gags but beyond that we're all set! We went super conservative on buying for each other this year, agreeing to only get one thing each. Which wasn't totally fair because he bought me (exactly what I asked for) a body pillow for this growing whale belly and it was, of course, pretty expensive. And then I found the perfect gift for him, a recipe book detailing the "secrets" of Asian cooking, and it was, naturally, $15. So we'll also be getting him a new pair of shoes because his current ones are absolutely falling off his feet.
We're also in the middle of selling our house and rather than pull out all the packed decorations, I just set up a little "Christmas Corner" where we have a tiny tree, poinsettias, and a couple stockings surrounded by the presents we will be giving family and friends. It's cute and tiny and I'm glad I did it rather than just skipping decorating altogether.

[12/11/2014]

Ultrasounds are the BEEEEEEST!! I just want to stay at the OB office for the whole pregnancy and watch him/her the entire time. It's nice to finally have it OUT on social media so I can stop being careful about what I say and how I say it and who I say it to and blah blah blah. It's unfortunate that it was nearly impossible to not know so early on since we planned on trying and I was just super hyper aware of cycles and all that.
Not to mention I really, desperately wanted to be pregnant for disneyland. Originally the plan was to be close enough to 12 weeks that I could just announce it from disneyland, but that wasn't in the cards. I literally woke up that Monday morning, two days before our scheduled Disney Departure, and took the tests that told me I was pregnant. After experiencing my first trimester it's probably better that it happened that way anyway. If I had been in the throes of the first nausea era, it may have been a bittersweet trip for me. Instead, I had a glorious time, ate all the park food I wanted (although sadly the fishy smell of the chowder bowls set my gag reflex on edge so we skipped that) (#devastated), and only had to be mildly careful about the repetitions of wild rides such as Screamin' or Ghost Galaxy, and even Star Tours.
Right now, I'm munching on lots of fruit because I'm too lazy (or we could call it fatigued) to assemble some semblance of a real meal. And peanut butter is tasting dangerously good. Taking small licks from the spoon to try and convince myself it isn't awful what I'm doing. Better peanut butter than nutella or ice cream, right? I actually don't know, nutella and peanut butter may be very close in caloric value...
Every time I look at an ultrasound I just want to pat my baby's little round tummy and kiss it and hold them and guys, I may not make it to June. This is impossible.
Until next time I feel like blabbing, or at the very least January 21st when we go in for round 2 of ultrasounds! Thanks to everyone that has already been so happy for us and congratulating us. We're so happy it's going well and that we get to share the happiness with all of you :)

Does this qualify me for oversharing Mom yet?

Weekend. Things. Stuff.

October is proving to be a hectic, crowded month. I am grateful indeed for my new housewifely status. It's always been the dream, the goal, the bar to be reached and while I may not have a routine down, or have a spiffing spotless house to prove it, I don't miss feeling like I'm worthless and wasting my life away forty hour weeks at a time.
Not to mention since being shooed out the door, I've gotten a wonderful, steady harp gig that I'm thoroughly enjoying; added gigs on top of that gig (seriously Taylor you may as well be my manager); and playing more piano in the accompanying world. Feels good and right.

In any case, yesterday Mark took work off and we packed up our truck to head up into the mountains with our crazy puppies and some good friends for a tiny baby camping trip. Mor'du still seems unsure of moving vehicles but he was pro-status after a quick nap on Mommy's lap. And Odin was just content to rest his head on Mommy's nice clean pillow laying on the console between Mom and Dad. Yummy.

We found a secluded and beautiful little campsite just off the beaten path and immediately set off for an unexpectedly adventurous hike up the mountain.
Due to the unexpected nature of the hike, my phone was not with me (nor were my sturdy hiking boots) so I did not get any pictures from the event. Although I might not have had much opportunity anyway considering after we reached the most accessible crest of the hill we were hiking on it started pouring rain. Mor'du was having the time of his life, bounding around and skidding through the damp leaves and debris, but Odin was less than amused. His abiding fear of thunder and disdain for being wet and his unfortunately high center of gravity was making this steep incline of earth NOT his favorite place to be. But he was such a trooper. He refused to be left behind and plowed on like the rest of us.
Considering the rain, we were beginning to worry for our chances of being able to get a fire going, but the resident Eagle Scouts did not disappoint!

The coals were white hot and the flames never faltered as we fed it more and more slightly soggy wood. Which was a blessing since it was our only plan for dinner and dessert.

However, the entire trip was saved by the fortuitous inclusion of a pop up canopy in the packing list of Allie and Alex. It might have been a right flop of an outing if we hadn't had that shelter. The rain, blessedly fine and misty for the most part, slogged on for the better part of the evening. Including a comforting rainbow hovering right over our corner of woods.

The scenery was, of course, a beauty to behold.

Odin and Mor'du spent the dwindling moments of sunlight scurrying around the general vicinity, always bounding right back to camp when we called. We have been so blessed with those well-mannered pups.

"Nope, sorry Mom. Can't stop for a picture, too many smells to smell."

We had dutch oven cornbread and chili for dinner, followed by a scrumptious dutch oven peach cobbler for dessert and by the end of the feasting I was the only one that could stomach even the idea of roasting a marshmallow. Perhaps because I had greedily bought the humongous sized marshmallows (90 calories a pop!) and even that I didn't finish.
But I did end up with a demon on a stick.

#nightmares

We toyed with the fire, sat around joking and laughing, and played about half a card game before it was finally declared bedtime. My phone had since died which was unfortunate because Mor'du and Odin's sleeping arrangements were mighty adorable.
The sky had cleared just in time for some glorious stargazing before the enthusiastically bright moon began peeking over the treetops and there was much butting of heads over whether a constellation was the big dipper or casseopeia (it was totes casseopeia, btw).

The morning was cold and dewy, but beautiful nonetheless. The dogs were happy to go on a sprightly walk down the trail (I myself was much more sluggish than sprightly) and they were kind enough to routinely sit and wait for me to catch up before bounding ahead of me again.

It was wonderful and I'm amazed with how well it went. Things worked out and nobody got hurt or lost and we all had fun. As I said to Mark, "if it had to rain, it was the perfect rain."

The First Eulogy

Puppies should never die. And when they do die, it should be of old age and in their sleep. Let's just make that statement for animals in general. Humans. Everyone!
I'm having a hard time picking an emotion.
One minute I'm solemn and straightforward and glad that Misha, my parent's old Yorkshire Terrier, is off in heaven with fully restored eyesight, hearing, and a nice shiny coat of hair. The next I'm making inappropriate jokes about how I'm sad that he didn't get a chance to meet Odin or Mor'du but the shock of that meeting really might've killed him anyway.
Though I guess that would be better than drowning.
And then I'm stuck in tears thinking about my poor parents having to find him that way. My dad sent out an email Sunday morning to close friends and family, those who knew Misha and his effect on our family. He'd been with us for over 14 years and during those 14 years was never very far from my Mom's side. If she was at home, he was attached to her. I immediately called my mom's cell and my heart broke when her shaky voice answered. She put me on with my dad and he started out with much bravado and claims of how much trouble and time and effort Misha was and how they didn't want another dog but it wasn't long before he broke down as well.
It's been a long time since I heard my father cry like that.
My mom kept repeating that really, they were okay, and she's just so grateful for the example of pure love that Misha was and how much he taught her. He was a very special dog to our family. The one and only dog we've ever had.
I can easily remember the adorable way he used to pick up his plastic food plate (nicked from a toy tea set I had because he was that small as a pup) and bring it to the dinner table when we as a family sat down to eat a meal.
The bizarre and crazed look he had when he came inside from a strenuous gallop through the snow banks in our frozen backyard in Utah, with weird packed balls of snow caked into his fur.
His never ending testosterone war with the neighbor's huge, black lab. Talk about a Napoleon Complex.
His woobie.
His tuft of Elvis hair that swooped over his eyes in different shapes as we played tug of war when he tossed his head back and forth.
The hilarious way his tiny feet would scramble furiously, and ineffectively, over the wooden floor as he tried to chase the cats through the house.
And of course, the funny way he waddled with his diaper on, bald leathery skin sagging, and graying hair sticking out in crazy angles as he suddenly became so old in his last days. It's strange how love really does overcome appearances.
He deserved a wonderful, peaceful death and it honestly just breaks my heart and brings me to tears that he had to leave suffering.
Dogs are special. Pets are special. They're just genuinely special creatures and it's terrible when they have to go, regardless of how they go. I'm grateful I have my own furbabes to hold extra tight to for this transition period.
I'm not sure how to finish this post. I don't think I want to.
How do you end something that is an end itself?
Puppies should never die.

The Rainiest Day

Guess what it rained yesterday whaaaaaat??!

Yeah you already know. It was...kind of a big deal.
But being a bit of a pluviophile myself, I'm gonna go over how the day went down at the Douglass'.

Around 6:45am I awoke to the screech of our bedroom window being opened as Mark investigated the curious rumbling sound. Turns out it was just thunder and rain. Our sleepy minds had come up with rather idiotic reasonings for the noise given that it is monsoon season. Mark thought the entire neighborhood had coordinated a single "take your trash bins to the road" flashmob, and I was just wondering what the planes were doing up so early.

But it was just raining. Hard. Raining really hard and raining a lot. Since I had no idea how long Mark had been up I inquired about how the puppies were doing since they sleep outside and he just said, "oh. yeah."

Odin and Mor'du have benefited greatly from spending time together outside. Odin has blossomed into such a tender "big brother" it's quite adorable. Their favorite spot is on the north side of the house under the olianders where there's never any direct sunlight. They just lay in the cool dirt for most of the day and Mor'du goes exploring every so often. I usually let them in during the hottest part of the afternoon and we play with some toys until Mor'du decides he'd like to nap on the tile, his preferred sleeping spot. Won't relax on the carpet for anything.

But this particular morning, the Monday of downpour, we came downstairs and discovered Odin sprawled on the loveseat couch under the porch with Mor'du sleeping peacefully up on the back cushions, nestled against the wall. We giggled at the pseudo doggy-bunkbed.

Thoroughly awake, I wandered around to take some pictures of the beautiful storm.

(this is too cool to pass up, my phone made a little gif-ish movie

of the shots it took to make that panoramic photo)

I instagrammed the former picture but didn't include any description. The window next to our piano (in fact, it's the window that looks out to the north and directly onto the spot I described earlier where Odin and Mor'du hang out) had constant streams of water running down it and created that lovely warped effect. I thought it made our backyard look very dreamy and jungle-y.

Being only just before 7 in the morning I didn't want to wake the dogs up just yet so I refrained from stepping out onto the back porch for another few minutes. About the same time that Mark left for Jury Duty around 7:30, the thunder started back up in earnest and poor Odin was rudely awakened. The poor guy hates the thunder. He kept knocking his head into the glass of the back door, shoving his nose into the hinges, trying to force his way inside. Since they both were awake anyway, I joined them on the porch and took some more pictures.

Our porch stretches out into the yard with those brown bricks that you see and then drops a couple inches to the dirt and the water was already seeping over the bricks. The chaos of the storm was evident in the overabundantly energetic furballs so we took an early morning stroll to the park. I didn't get any photos there because I didn't want to bother waterproofing my phone. Mor'du consistently found the deepest puddles to scamper through as we ran around the grassy enclosure and Odin galloped along obediently. I will be one happy mama if Mor'du can inherit Odin's penchant for sticking close to his masters and not tearing off the minute he's off leash. I legitimately cannot run fast enough for Odin to really get going the way he wants to, so usually I'll take him off his three foot leash and just keep Mor'du on his extendable leash and harness. It was cute to see that whenever Odin shook off the water, Mor'du would watch and then proceed to do the same. He wants to be just like his big brother ;)

We went home sopping wet and were promptly shooed to the back porch again for drying off. Since the thunder had abated, the dogs enjoyed dashing about the yard in great splashes and playing with each other. It was good to see them both reacting so well to the water.

The rain didn't hardly dissipate till about 10am. I went outside and curiously tried pulling up some of the tall weeds that have been sprouting up ("they popped outta the snow! like daisies!!") recently. It came loose so easily and within minutes I had handfuls of the stuff to throw away. And so my laundry day turned into a yardwork day.

Mark came home just a little before 11 (obviously, considering he took those shots above) and when he came out onto the porch and saw me ankle deep in muddy water, bent over picking weeds he asked if I was "enjoying working in the rice paddys". I won't say I wasn't having at least a slightly good time. We trimmed a palo verde tree that's been desperately trying to become a bush as well as some oliander branches that were quickly closing off the pathway to the south side of the house and raked/shoveled up some windblown excess littering the yard. It hardly looks any better out there but I sure feel better about it.

After having a good sweat outside I finally took a shower and finished the laundry (although by "finish" I merely mean at least started all the loads I had planned for that day...). Then, for impromptu cookies, I headed down to San Tan to clock in some snuggles with miss Jade and baby Izzy and Rory.

Don't mind me, just bein' a boss is all. Izzy is the perfect size to cradle that way so holding and feeding Jade was no problem. Plus both babes had just been napping so they were perfectly content and not fussy at all. So I was lucky they are so easy. It was nice to just hop in my car in the middle of the day and go hang out with some friends for a couple hours. Although I was greeted by this monstrosity on my way out of our neighborhood...

What a lovely little sinkhole. Yipes.

On my way home I picked up in-n-out animal style burger and fries and had them for the first time in my life and as amazingly delicious as it was I really need a good sugary soda to counterbalance all that salty goodness. So next time, diabetes fo' sho.

We ended the day watching Band of Brothers episodes and it was just an all-around fabulous day of rainy storminess, good friends, and fun times.

I love monsoon season.

Peace an' Blessin's

Dearest, tiniest, infuriating Mor'du:

My sweet puppy, you nigh on gave me a heart attack this morning. But I know it's not your fault, we needed to keep a better eye on you and do a better job of puppy-proofing that opening under the side gate. You're a lot skinnier than we gave you credit for. It won't happen again ;)
     I'm so grateful for the sweet woman that just happened to be walking her kids to school right as you made your grand escape. It's too bad you couldn't wait the two days until you get your microchip in but I understand, the world is a big fun place you just gotta explore!
     As emotional and stressful as those five hours were, as I reflect on the morning I find my heart warmed by the handful of moments I experienced with the people of our neighborhood. One woman outside working in her garage was kind enough to spare a moment and tell me about her own love of dogs. She asked your name and how long we'd had you, and she alerted me to the punny condition of your name; "Mor'du" aka "More doo" cuz already you been plopping a nice smattering of "doo-doo's" in our yard. That made me smile at a time when I really just wanted to cry.
     There were some landscapers milling about the neighborhood and most all of them gave me encouraging smiles as they watched me taping up fliers and one even asked to see the picture of you we'd printed on it. He was very kind and promised they would all keep an eye out and we even found him wandering around the irrigation ditch looking and whistling for you.
     Another man who was trimming his bushes made sure to ask where you belonged if he happened upon you (this was before we'd made the fliers) and gave the hopeful suggestion that, you'd "probably come running once I bring my own dogs out for a walk." It felt nice to know that a complete stranger would care that much about you finding your way back home.
     I was so scared for you, Mor'du. You're so small and so young and it's so hot outside. There's so many places you could have gone. Immediately my mind was whirling and going all over the place. We passed the large storm drains and tears spilled from my eyes imagining what could've happened to you.
Heaven help me as a Mother.

After around three hours of searching and very few light poles left without a sign, I was desperate for another way of actively looking for you. I realized that Mark and I didn't have to be the only ones praying for your safe return. I posted a facebook status and kind comments quickly rolled in. We were searching the dirt field behind our house and just about to wearily head back home when my phone started ringing and my heart started thumping.
     It was the sweet woman who had picked you up that morning. She lived not even a block away from us and she had fed you, given you water, and had made up signs for you when she saw our own signs. We were walking back home when we happened to meet her on the way, holding you, and you wriggled right out of her arms when you saw us. According to you, it had been a fun, exciting morning and you made some new friends.
     She didn't even ask about the reward we put on the sign and was all smiles as we thanked her again and again.

You're a wee little rascal and my heart will be very much lightened when I can just stay home with you all day and keep a wary eye on you. So glad you're okay, buddy. You're not getting away that easy!

Very much love,
Mama and Papa

This may be overdramatic and superfluous and I can just imagine you readers snickering at how silly this 'letter' is but for Mark and me, our puppies are our children. We don't have any human offspring yet and we are very attached to our pets. Dogs will be dogs and we'll certainly look back on this and laugh (we already have) but in the moment it was very real and very emotional. It's a tough blow when you're thinking about starting a family (with real human children at that) and you can't even seem to keep track of a two month old puppy for more than 48 hours.
Again, thank you to all those who saw our message and sent good thoughts, well wishes, and prayers our way. I promise it made a difference.
Now pray that he learns to not pee on the carpet soon! Or that he'll figure out that we bought those toys so he would chew on them and not Mark's socks and shoes, or the carpet, or the couch. Or that we can somehow find a way to teach him that small, quick kisses are okay but slathering people's faces with his tongue and biting noses is nope-not-okay. Yeah, those prayers next plz.

Wee Douglass Babby

He's a furry baby.

This is Mor'du. Yes, like the evil villain bear from Brave, that's correct. But we brought him home last night and we have a small beany baby type bear toy that he just took to immediately. The name sprung to my mind and we looked up its meaning in google, which gave us "Big Black".
Well he's not so big right now, but he most likely will be soon.
He's an abandoned rescue pup so we're not too sure on lineage, but judging by looks he's probably got some rottweiler and some lab.

We took Odin down to the temp family's house for a "meet and greet" last night (thanks Jenn!), to make sure they could be compatible. Odin has had very little opportunity for socializing during his lifetime (he's around four or five years old, we've only had him since Fall of 2013) and he usually gets pretty stiff around other dogs. He's not mean or aggressive, just on edge.
When we arrived, Odin was immediately intrigued, even from outside the front door. So many smells!
He handled it very well, many genital sniffs were had, and there was only the faintest hint of a growl just once. The puppy in question was completely content to park himself underneath the table or chairs and just watch the fun. Very submissive and chill. Odin ambled around and hardly paid any attention to the little pups. Our worries were quickly quashed.

On our way to Mark's mom's house (we had missed a spur-of-the-moment get together earlier that evening but could still make it for cake!) all the fur blob wanted to do was snuggle up close to me and nuzzle my neck. So much cuddles! He wasn't content to just lay in my lap, he continually tried to climb up my front and perch on my shoulder. But we worked out a nice system where he got to bury his fuzzy face into my neck and my arms supported the rest of his body. Within minutes my heart was completely melted. His tiny dreaming twitches were like a hot skillet to butter.
At the party, he was a trooper. He got passed around like a hot potato but never whined or peed on anybody! He was particularly fond of wedging himself deep into the chiropractic table.

As of this point in the evening, the [yet nameless] pup was still a little wary of Odin. A hopeful family had taken him home the previous night but their other dog did not take so kindly to the little fella and there was biting. But we picked up some dinner, got home and took both dogs outside to sniff around and get used to the new surroundings. He piddled and pooped in his new yard and we praised him and he chewed on weeds and sticks. His personality quickly seeped through the shyness and soon he was bounding around, exploring and pouncing on crinkly leaves. I brought out the bear toy I mentioned earlier and he hauled it off under the grape vines, chillin' in the cool dirt and gnawing on his new friend.
Which is when we named him Mor'du.

We played until about 10:30, let him relieve himself one more time outside, and then it was into the makeshift kennel of the guest bathroom downstairs for the night. We made up a little bed for him and stuck in a nightlight so it wouldn't be pitch dark (do dogs even care about that? /shrug #firsttimepuppyparents)
As far as I can tell, he did really well for the first night. No signs of bathroom breaks and he was incredibly energetic and happy to see us in the morning. After taking him out for the morning bidness, I took him upstairs (carried him most of the way, stairs are gonna be a challenge for a while) and let the quivering, wiggling bundle of licks wake Mark up. It was quite precious to behold.
We spent a little time sitting on the floor playing with both doggies, giving Odin some extra vigorous rubs to let him know he's okay and we still love him. He's just gonna be a bit of a grump for a few weeks.

We're super excited about this big change to our lives. Thankfully I'll soon be home full time to really train the little dude and oversee him and Odin getting some good bonding time.
I'm also looking forward to a reason for getting me up out of bed in the morning to go on nice, invigorating walks before the sun chars the ground into lava.
Huzzah for puppies!!!

The Perils of Wearing Earbuds at Work

It's a known and begrudged fact that the post-lunch hours of desk work servitude are long and oft smothered in a repressive haze of exhaustion. 

Basically, we're all tired and our bellies are full and we want a nap. Because we're grown-up adulty human beings. And filing seemingly meaningless paperwork is just not harnessing the attentions like it should. So sometimes (read: most times, like every day times) I'll pull out my phone and listen to pandora. Like, a really upbeat station. Like Shakira or something to get my toes tappin' and the blood flowin'. 

And today, I was engaging in such activities BUT I'm a smart human and I know that I already have selective hearing problems so I only ever put one earbud in at a time so I can still hear if somebody screams says my name. But I tend to kind of, y'know, tune out the conversations, some of the time, occasionally.

And every great once in awhile, hilarity ensues.

Today, I forgot that I had uncovered a hidden green apple laffy taffy that had fallen under my desk and had been saving it for after lunch. So when I finally remembered I excitedly pulled it out of my purse (by the way, it's a big deal because there are only like, four icky cherry laffy taffy's left in the whole office so like, SCORE, amiright?) and proceeded to check the jokes in hopes that one would perchance incite a rueful chuckle. 

One was completely dumb and not worth the time to type it out. The other said this:

     "Why did the little mouse run away from home?"

[pause for effect]

     "Because his father was a rat."

Now, I don't know about you but I'm not too sure about like, domestic abuse insinuations as jokes on candy wrappers so my jaw dropped and I laughed nervously and turned to share the joke with my coworkers. We all had a community "wtf" moment and the day should've continued as normal but one coworker commented,

"I'm a Rat."

I, totally missing his meaning, just turned around with a chuckle and left it alone.

Moments later, I realized my other coworker was asking me something.

I turned back around, "what?"

"Are you a Dragon?"

I assumed I misheard, "sorry, what?"

"Are you a Dragon??"

I literally had no idea how to respond. I just said no and hoped that I was in the realm of appropriate responses to whatever was happening. But a multitude of eyes were staring at me as if this was a normal conversation and my panic quickly escalated. And so I addressed the situation myself,

"I have no clue what's happening right now, why...what?"

And I finally pulled my headphone out.

"I feel like I ate that laffy taffy and it was laced with acid or something, what is even going on? What are we talking about?? I found it hiding under my desk so who even knows what happened to it..."

In the interim between when I recited the punchline of the joke and after my coworker initially revealed that he was, in fact, "a Rat" the others went on to reveal their CHINESE ANIMAL YEAR DESIGNATIONS and my coworker was actually just asking if I was a Dragon, or in other words, born in a preset sequence of years.

That is all. Thankfully I'm still clean and my laffy taffy was not tainted. Whew!

And for the record, I'm a frickin' Horse and it's awesome. 

Max! Fetch Me My Dictionary!

I think the worst thing about getting together with people lately is the initial small-talk and inevitable, "so how's it going? What are you up to?" because literally people. My life doesn't change. It's so routine lately it's abysmal. And like, I'm not even being evasive or obtuse when I say, "oh just working," because that's all I do.

Which would be admirable if I was "working" in a career that I'd been striving for and working hard to get into, and doing, I dunno, important things but all I'm doing is answering the phone, getting the mail, and counting down the days.

And I don't even have an ice cream(ish?) treat to console me.

So posting traffic on the blog has significantly dwindled. And if you noticed and are miffed, I apologize. Forcing myself to come up with content just produces stuff like that abomination I posted last about the childhood crushes. I would take it down but now I'm quite attached to going back and looking at it m'self.

And honestly this tidbit isn't going to be much better. I'm just reading Jane Eyre again because recently I watched the 2011 film version and was left wanting. I knew there was much more substance to the tale than the film offered and felt the need to refresh my memory. Plus it's one of my all-time favorites.
My point! Is here now I give you a diminutive sampling of the vocabulary words I've begun listing in a composition notebook and looking up the definitions because #omg

• interlocutrice: one who takes part of a conversation. (Specifically female. The male counterpart of the word is interlocutore.)
• worsted: fine, smooth spun yarn from combed long-staple wool.
• salubrious: healthgiving; pleasant, not run-down
• ribald(ry): referring to sexual matters in an amusing or irreverant manner (so basically like victorian "that's what she said")
• welkin: sky or heaven
• anathematised: curse or condemn

and I may just adopt this into my cache of insults because it's pure poetry

• prating prig: a self-righteously moralistic person who acts superior to those around them that talks foolishly or tediously.

Language is a beautiful thing, is it not? And yes, I am indeed journaling the big words I don't know or aren't sure on the exact meaning (as well as recording and translating the french because the copy I have gives no aid whatsoever in understanding the foreign bits) just for fun because...it's really fun.

Also, she legitimately uses "lugubrious" and I haven't stopped giggling basically.

"Coming your most lugubriousness!"

Animation messed me up

Every now and again I think back on all my "celebrity crushes" from childhood and it gets real weird, real fast.

Secret of NIMH Justin, the rat

The Great Mouse Detective Basil, the mouse

The Lion King Simba, a-durr

The Rescuer's Down Under Jake, the kangaroo mousey thing? 

(and I guess I have a thing for rodents??)

The Fox and the Hound Todd, the foxy fox

Robin Hood effing Robin Hood I mean come on

(I promise there are humans, too!)

Anastasia Dimitri

Pocahontas John Smith

Ferngully Zac (John Smith, jr.) (srsly)

The Swan Princess Derek (but like...dat haircut tho, ew)

Treasure Planet Jim (specifically in that military suit at the end)

Like, maybe I have a problem.